The Way Back
by SpockLikesCats
Summary: His mother had loved him, just as he was, unconditionally, with all of herself, and always in her presence he had repaid her with coolness and Vulcan logic and Vulcan discomfort with everything she was.
1. Chapter 1

The Way Back

By SpockLovesCats

A/N: "Star Trek," its characters and environments not mine, but are delightful ways to explore the heart and mind. Thanks to Slippery Stone, my encouraging Beta, and to her, TeaOli, BB L, and AquaSoulSis for gentle kicks in the pants.

If there are nautical terms or usages in the story you don't understand, contact me before you criticize, and please know that constructive criticism, comments and feedback are welcome!

Chapter One

Commander Spock stumbled through the corridors of the Enterprise. He hardly knew where he was headed. The staggering knowledge that the entire Bridge crew had witnessed his violence to Kirk pounded through him with every beat of his heart. _"Did you __**see **__what he did?" _Allowing Kirk to goad him: _"Tell me, Spock -- what's it like not to feel? Anger. Or __**heartbreak**__. Or the need to stop at __**nothing**__ to avenge the woman who gave birth to you?" … _Kirk had prodded him intensely and he had given in to savagery … _"It must not even __**compute**__ for you!"_ … losing control of his thinking, recalling the taunts he had gotten as a child, violating his societal and self-imposed patterns of logical thought … _"You __**never**__ loved her!" _then attacking his fellow [vastly junior] officer.

Only Sarek's voice -- and that tiny gasp from a stricken Uhura -- had saved him from his rage, saved him from killing Kirk. He surrendered control of the ship to the acting First Officer, citing Section 619 of Starfleet Regulations to Doctor McCoy in front of the entire Bridge crew.

Every breath was an effort. Movement was an effort, yet somehow mindless.

He had arrived at the Transporter Room. He was standing by the pad that was supposed to have brought his mother safely to the _Enterprise_. He tried to remember Chekov's apologies -- basically, the Vulcan rock beneath Amanda had dropped out of the planar coordinates at just the wrong time. The boy was horribly overcome with shame for something not his fault; Spock had brushed him off, too coldly, he suspected. In his right mind Spock would have known exactly what the problem was, could have diagnosed it instantly, coolly, scientifically.

If it had been anyone else who was lost.

He was hollowed out with grief. There was no other phrase for it. His mother had loved him, just as he was, unconditionally, with all of herself, and always in her presence he had repaid her with coolness and Vulcan logic and Vulcan discomfort with everything she was. He could not feel her _katra_ now; he sensed that he should, that if he were a good son, he should know she was with him always. If he were a good son he would have kept hold of her arm during transport, would have maintained the closeness with which they had emerged from the Katric Ark, arm in arm. If he were a good son he would not have concerned himself with how that might look to the transporter crew on the _Enterprise_. If he were a good son she would not have died. He could have held on to her.

His father appeared, soundlessly as usual. "Speak your mind, Spock."

"That would be unwise."

"What is necessary is never unwise. That which is beautiful is magnified when shared with others. That which is painful is often moderated by being shared. Both approaches are equally logical." (*)

Something flashed between them, an acknowledgement of the waste of years that had passed with them not speaking, the years since Spock had turned down the offer of a post at the Vulcan Science Academy and joined Starfleet, with all family communications passed via Amanda, their peacemaker, their liaison.

His father waited.

"I feel as conflicted as I once did as a child. I feel such anger … for the one who took her life. It is an anger I cannot stop."

"I believe _she_ would say -- do not try to. You will always be a child of two worlds, Spock. As such, you will forever be forced to make decisions that partake of both. Your birthright, Spock, should be as much a wonderment to you as it is to me. I am grateful for it. And for you."

Spock met his eyes. His father moved toward him, his eyes warm and open, Sarek's equivalent to an embrace or a touch of his hand. "You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I loved her."

He knew, too, how much Spock had loved Amanda. And that Spock had someone else in his life who loved him unconditionally.

Sarek had seen Spock and Uhura relating to one another. He knew of their intimate connection. And if he was not giving outright approval, he was acknowledging Spock's right of choice.

It was over. Nero the Romulan had gone to perdition with his crew and his huge, outlandish, powerful ship. Another black hole must be charted in addition to the one in space formerly known as the Vulcan system.

Spock took no time off duty. The mission was over and he needed to continue working so as not to sink into some emotional netherworld. He finished his second straight watch on the Bridge, ensuring _Enterprise_ was on the most efficient course for Earth and that structural repairs continued to go forward, confirming by subspace that new warp core elements would be ready for installation when they arrived at Starbase 001. Meanwhile, the ship was limping home on impulse power.

Spock called Kirk to relieve him and Kirk stepped onto the Bridge with his usual boundless energy. Spock himself had never felt so tired, nor had he ever previously allowed himself to acknowledge feeling so tired. He allowed it now. He needed rest like a Human needed water. He needed to crawl into his bed and sleep without dreaming, and sleep some more.

As he moved through the passageways, he was peripherally aware of junior crew members and recent Academy cadets glancing sideways at him, sometimes murmuring to one another, as they had been since he stepped down. _"_…_kicked Kirk's ass!" "Almost killed that arrogant peckerhead" "And Kirk's still the Acting Captain, what's that about?" "…may be an arrogant prick but he saved our asses--" "They __**both**__ did, Commander Spock and Kirky boy." "I heard Spock was almost crying when they beamed up from Vulcan … his mother fell out of the transporter coordinates …" "Nah, it was Chekov almost crying … he's only 17...somebody said he fucked up on the transporter." "No way, he's just a kid but he's almost as smart as Spock" "Speaking of whom, I know his parents raised him right … He was polite to Kirk -- 'step away from me, Mister Kirk' -- right up until he __**snapped**__ …" "Surprise! Ha-ha, he almost snapped Kirk the Jerk's neck … craakk!" "Don't get him pissed off at you!" "Don't talk to him about his mama, man, simple as that…"_

He kept his eyes from them lest they realize he could hear every word. It would be too embarrassing all around. Best to let them gossip and wear out the topic, he had found in his years serving with Captain Pike and other Human crews. They would soon find a new subject.

At the door of his quarters he had some trouble with his entry code. That had never happened. Usually his fingers automatically made the motions and he was in. Tonight they trembled and he entered wrong numbers in error. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. After his second try the door mercifully slid back. He almost stumbled on his way to the bed. He couldn't take off his boots by toeing them off as usual; he had to sit down to do it. He was so impatient to lie horizontal he nearly tore his clothes off, and left them where they fell. He managed to rise enough to remove his trousers, turn back the bedcovers, and tell the computer to shut the lights. He fell headlong into sleep.

Uhura buzzed at the door to Spock's quarters. She did not use his private security code to enter. She was unsure if he would want company.

Spock came to open the door in a hastily-fastened dark blue meditation robe. His face appeared creased, as if he'd been sleeping on his stomach; odd, because he almost always slept on his back or curled to one side. His hair, normally neat, even after resting, was a mess, and he looked quite bleary with sleep. She had never seen him so. Never.

"I wanted to see if you need anything." She had tried to wash away her tears, but they had come back to streak her face anyway, and Spock looked momentarily puzzled by her obvious distress.

He closed his eyes and gestured her in. She hugged him around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, lowering her arms to circle his waist, and gently began rubbing his back in long, soothing strokes, reaching inside his robe to smooth his knotted back muscles. "I was so scared when you went after Nero," she said. "But you came back to me. You came back. My Spock. Oh, why did you stay on duty so long after?"

He felt her emotions washing over him; gratitude, sorrow for his losses, sorrow for the Starfleet members lost at Vulcan, and gratitude again that he was not lost to her.

He tilted his head back, swallowing sudden tears. "My mother … my people …."

"Thee honors me," she said in Vulcan. She kissed his cheek softly, then his mouth. "With thy trust. By allowing me to share thy grief," she whispered. "I grieve with thee."

He leaned into her then, his arms tightening around her upper back, his fingers kneading almost like a kitten's. Uhura heard a deep inward breath and felt his tight chest expand against her breasts. And again. She pulled away slightly to see his face; his eyes were tightly closed and he was fighting for control. Again she kissed his face.

"_Mpenzi_," she breathed, and led him to his bed. "Darling. Take off your robe and lie down so I can massage your back."

He stripped his robe off and did as she asked, while she got a small bottle of almond oil from the bedside cabinet. It had a faint scent of eucalyptus, which reminded them both of Northern California and the Academy. Spock had always found the scent relaxing. She warmed a little oil in her palms and began stroking him, starting at the nape of his neck, moving out over his extremely tight trapezoidal muscles and over his lean, muscled shoulders, down his arms, down his back, then working gently upward again.

She herself usually got tension right between her shoulder blades but Spock's mostly stayed in his upper and middle back. From holding himself so rigidly straight, she supposed. He had the loveliest posture, but she had sometimes wondered if Vulcan children had to stand for hours with books atop their heads. _How many Vulcan children are left now?_ she wondered as she poured more oil into her palm. She dared not think such a thought while her hands were on him. Instead, as she massaged him, she thought of "their" beach in San Francisco, their long walks in Golden Gate Park, their hikes on Mount Tamalpais and out at Bodega Bay, their week on a beach in Kenya. She ran the German version of the Soprano solo in Brahms's _German Requiem,_ which Spock had heard her sing. _I will comfort you as a mother comforteth. I am in a place beyond all Human trials and pains. _That evening had been their second dinner out together.

She did a deep-tissue massage using knuckles, fists, the whole gamut; his muscles were so taut they did not relax for a good thirty minutes. Then she softened her strokes, making them longer and longer, until she heard him groan a little.

She lowered her face to see his. His eyes, now glazed with tears, haunted with grief, met hers, and he awkwardly sat up, reaching for her. He gasped for breath and she held him tightly as the breath released itself in silent, jerking sobs.

"I never told her I loved her," he said at last.

"Oh, Spock," she said, tenderly kissing his face, "She knew. I'm sure she knew."

They slept, slightly apart, each exhausted, too weary to make love, but too tired to part.

* * *

(*) This line of Sarek's is expanded from the script by Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman, in the novel by Alan Dean Foster, adapted from "Star Trek."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The next day, Spock went to Sick Bay to see how Captain Pike fared.

"He's still recovering from surgery, Spock," McCoy told him. "You're welcome to go in and sit quietly, but don't wake him up."

Spock took a seat next to Pike's biobed, where the captain reposed under an intensely violet steri-light. The light would not be as visible to Pike in the dim room as it was to Spock; Vulcans had a broader spectrum of light and color perception than did Humans. Passing that way again 45 minutes later, McCoy saw Spock had not moved. He went to stand next to the Vulcan officer. "I think he can sense you're here, Spock."

Spock nodded, and rose. "I know he can, Doctor." He stood respectfully for a moment, then left.

After meditating for an hour, Spock left the Observation Deck and found a memo on his private computer from Kirk: "Please call me when you return to your quarters." He sighed deeply, wondering what Kirk could possibly want. Spock had laid out all the details of the ship's repairs and shipyard schedule to begin upon their return to Earth orbit; he had written up the watch lists for the Acting Captain already. Nevertheless, he contacted Kirk, who said he would be "right down." Spock frowned and changed out of his meditation robe back into his uniform tunic.

When Kirk arrived at his door Spock gestured him in. Kirk had an eagerness about his entire attitude; his bodily vibration, the way his aquamarine eyes followed every movement, reminded Spock of a bird of prey or the large Vulcan predator-cat, _Le Matya_, but much more benevolent. A very attentive, aware being.

"Commander Spock," Kirk said rather awkwardly, "I want to apologize for how I spoke to you on the Bridge the other day. I was assured by an expert that I had to get you to admit you were emotionally compromised. I especially wish to formally pay my respects to you on the death of your mother. When I spoke with your father this morning, he thought it wouldn't go amiss if I stopped in to speak with you as well. Back where I grew up we used to call this a sympathy visit; among Humans it's--"

"I require neither your respects nor your sympathies, Mr. Kirk. Will that be all?"

Kirk stilled himself. Completely. And he looked intently at Spock, whose eyes were veiled with Vulcan detachment and inner-lit with a deep anger. "Commander Spock, I _know_ that you don't require those things, especially from me. I'm here to show you I respect you and your enormous contribution to this mission. We're still learning to work together. You and I _together _did a damned good job, taking out Nero and the _Narada._

"And one thing I need to tell you about working with Humans is that sometimes you just have to accept and go along with our stupid, antiquated, emotional customs--"

"--Then thank you for your sympathies, Mister Kirk. You may go."

"--or you're going to alienate members of your crew-- "

"I have heard this identical speech from Humans many times in my Starfleet career: I can tell you exactly how many. Three hundred forty-seven--"

"--I know you -- _disapprove of_ -- the way I took command. I'm not so--happy about it myself. Please know I had a good reason, one I can't reveal to you."

Spock leveled his blackest gaze on Kirk, mentally urging him to get out of his quarters. But the Human continued talking, his sincerity trying to penetrate Spock's anger.

"You've had a terrible loss, one that is unthinkable to any of us with a reasonable mind. No one reasonable could do what Nero did to you and your people --"

"-- You have an unerring talent for stating the painfully obvious, Mister Kirk --"

"-- and no one reasonable could expect you to perform as well as you did to expunge him from our universe. Nor could we expect you to perform as well as you have subsequently. I've reviewed your progress reports and your proposed schedules for the next few weeks and want to thank you for what I expect is a typically superb job. Except for the watch list."

Spock closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. He felt Kirk was stating simple facts, at best, and patronizing him, at worst: _this 23-year-old Human __**pup**__ who wrested command from me by arousing the worst emotions within me. _"And what expert opinion have you formulated concerning the watch list, Mister Kirk?"

"I'm removing your name. I want you to take the next week off. Meditate, stargaze, tinker with computers -- whatever you do to relax. You've earned it and I think you need it."

"I prefer to continue with my duties--"

"Your duties are done, except for standing watches--"

"I require work--"

"_Spock_, you've been putting in twenty-hour days, and the Science department and Command division ensigns and lieutenants need time to improve their skills. Please, relax, recuperate, _somehow_. You have reports and hearings to get through at Starfleet Command when we get back. Before _that,_ you and I need to meet and marshal our facts, records, and memories and figure out how to hold our tempers when we're questioned by the Board." Kirk smiled, his eyes on what Nyota called "full twinkle." "Well, _I_ can figure out how to hold _my_ temper."

"Indeed, I do not think your brawling skills will be very handy in that instance."

"Do you have any other command advice for me, Spock?" Kirk softened his last words with his crooked smile.

"At present, I have no comment on the matter. You seem to have things well in hand," Spock said neutrally.

Kirk left, after gently grasping Spock's shoulder, and Spock felt a need to meditate again.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Captain Pike, in Sickbay, had requested Spock come to see him. He was out of Intensive Care now.

McCoy motioned Spock aside as he came into Medical. "Look, Spock, I know he asked you to come down here, but he tires very quickly. That _thing_ I took out of him didn't come easily. It took several hours of surgery and several rounds of intensive light exposure to get the thing out of his neural system. No matter how tough he acts, I'll be in in ten minutes to kick you out, so make it snappy." At Spock's blank look, McCoy said, "_Rapido._ Quick. Two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Spock sighed and walked in to Pike's curtained area. "Captain, Commander Spock reporting --"

"Skip it, Spock. McCoy's right, I am wrung out. I just wanted to talk for a few minutes. Have a seat." Spock found a chair next to Pike's bed and seated himself, in full, correct military posture.

"Relax, Spock. Please."

He eased his posture. Slightly.

"First, I wanted to extend my sympathies on the death of your mother. And for the war crime against your home planet." Spock nodded. What else was he supposed to do? He remembered what his father had said to some well-meaning Human, "Thank you," and said it.

"Next, I wanted to thank you for your visit earlier this week. I thought I'd dreamed about it but McCoy told me you sat with me for almost an hour. It was kind of you."

Spock nodded again. Waited.

"Lieutenant Kirk was by a while ago and he mentioned something to me. Well, a couple of things, actually." Pike reached to one side for a water tube and took a long, cool draft, then fixed his clear, blue-grey eyes on Spock. "Number one: He felt that your mission to the Romulan ship went very well, in spite of your misgivings about it. He said your sharp-shooting skills are excellent, that your mastery of advanced technology was superior, and your flying skills, ditto. Actually, things I myself have observed on previous occasions, and just a few of the reasons I put you in for Commander last year.

"But Kirk was a little perturbed about something that happened just before you two left the Enterprise. Apparently Lieutenant Uhura came by to wish you farewell?"

"She also made final adjustments to some translation equipment I wore to the _Narada_."

"Oh, is that it. Kirk seemed to think you and Uhura were kissing right there in front of him and the Transporter team."

Spock was quite sure the tips of his ears must be bright green. His face felt quite warm.

"Now, Spock, I remember reviewing the personnel rosters for _Enterprise_, and I don't remember Lieutenant Uhura's name from that review. When did she get assigned?"

Spock's eyes met his, and his expression was determined, logical. "Because of our urgent mission to Vulcan, and her abilities in Vulcan languages, I thought she would be better assigned here than Shrov, the Andorian cadet originally scheduled to report to the Communications Division. His specialty languages were Klingon and Cardassian."

Pike's eyes sparked with appreciation. "Well put, Spock. And about the romantic farewell on the Transporter pad?"

"Clearly an inappropriate public display of affection, Captain. However, I believe Ms. Uhura was offering me support at what has been a very …" His upper lip felt stiff and he could barely formulate words. "A very difficult time for me. And before you ask, I did return her … displays of affection. I honestly believed that I was going to my death."

"But you didn't. Die, I mean. In fact, you and Kirk managed to save Earth from … well, the same fate as your home world."

Spock looked away; he would not accept such praise readily. His lip still stiff, he said, "Our victory over Nero was a unit effort. Everyone on the Bridge and in Engineering contributed their utmost."

"One other question, Spock; are you a sexist?"

"Pardon me?"

"Lieutenant Uhura is a lot cooler in a crisis than Ensign Chekov, I think. _I_ should have put her in charge when you, Sulu, Kirk and I left the Bridge -- though she wasn't Command Track in SFA -- and I don't understand why _you _didn't put her in charge of _Enterprise_ when you beamed down to Vulcan."

Spock's eyes widened slightly as he thought about it. He didn't know why he had done it, either; except possibly for a desire to season Ensign Chekov, a Command Track cadet, in a very difficult situation. Uhura, he knew, could handle things, unless, possibly, _he_ was in danger …

"Because you love her and she loves you, and because of _that_, you assumed she might make poor judgments, didn't you."

"Quite probably, sir. I must consider the question."

"Last question. Do you trust _my_ judgment?"

"Of course, Captain, without a doubt."

"Well, sometimes I have doubts, myself. I know I'm not infallible. I have to _appear _infallible to my crew, which I understand you tried to do regarding my orders to rendezvous with the fleet at the Laurentian system. In spite of all the shocks and grief you had been through, you endeavored to fulfill the orders I gave you, and you supported them with all the logic you could muster." Pike lifted a hand.

"But as a captain, you need to be willing to listen to your senior officers' input. There's a reason I appointed Jim as your First Officer when I left the Bridge. You have reviewed his record. But I want to point you to my study of the _Kelvin_ incident. You've briefed yourself on it, no doubt; but I want you to study it in more detail and learn what kind of people Kirk comes from.

"His dad, George, was incredibly brave. His mom, Winona, too. After the _Kelvin_ you'd have thought she never wanted to cross space again, but she resumed her Starfleet career once she could leave little Jim with relatives. She was determined. Jim has inherited that. I've seen him exercise piss-poor judgement but I've also seen something special in him. It's why I recruited him for the Academy."

Spock's left eyebrow rose. "_You_ … recruited …?"

Pike just smiled. "He's a daredevil and a prankster and enjoyed challenging his Academy instructors every chance he got. But he also sharpened his skills at assessing situations and acting accordingly during his years with us. Now let me be clear: I do _not_ support the way he challenged your _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario, but he used original thinking and he certainly made a point. Odds can appear very dim, even impossible. But many people, _command material _people, can think their way around the odds in certain situations and come out winners. Even his father, in that 'no-win' _Kelvin_ scenario, saved 800 lives.

"Jim Kirk is NOT a by-the-book thinker. If he thinks logically, it's just one course to a goal. He examines as many courses as he can in the same minute while linear thinkers are marshalling logical arguments. He's an intuitive and tactical thinker, while you're a logical, strategic thinker.

"Spock, we've been out on missions before, and you are a fine Science Officer and a dedicated Bridge officer, and I took the chance, when choosing my senior officers, of slotting you as both Science Officer and First Officer. You were doing a damned good job, but I think you need to -- pardon me for saying it -- _use_ your dual heritage, and work more at flexibility.

"When Kirk challenged you on the Bridge and goaded you into attacking him -- I got the play-by-play from Dr. McCoy -- Kirk told me his goal was to save this ship, save me, and block Nero from his goal of destroying the Federation. It was also an act of friendship for you."

Spock's eyebrows ascended. "Indeed? Insulting my filial connection with my mother?"

"He somehow understood your most sensitive point, Spock, and he achieved his goal -- getting you to step down under Regulation 619 so he could institute his plan. And luckily for all of us, it worked."

"But why do you call this an act of friendship and not mutiny, sir?"

"I don't like to refer to this, but -- the destruction of your world and the death of your mother _had_ to have had some effect on your judgement. Some things can't be compartmentalized. I think you needed some refuge, meditation time … time to consider what best to do. Instead, you continued in command, and in retrospect I regret my order to you to rendezvous with the Fleet at the Laurentian System. I definitely disagree with your decision to maroon Kirk on Delta Vega. Didn't you wonder, after all of Kirk's and McCoy's challenges to you, if you should indeed have been acting captain at that point?

"I'm not saying this to insult you -- it was a mistake on my part to leave you with those orders. But I was _not_ mistaken that you needed that argumentative pain in the ass Kirk as your Number One. Maybe you could have, as a command team, come to some satisfactory compromise.

"I hope you can learn when to bend the rules and when to take a different tack than seems completely logical. I'm asking you to think about this now, because I've just received word from Starfleet command that they want to grant Kirk a field promotion. It's quite clearly political; they say he took a lot of risks to save the Home world.

"They don't understand that _you_ took an equal number of risks, if not more, with that Red Matter, nor do they 'get' what an asset you are. Since Vulcan's … gone, and the survivors are concentrating on founding a new home world, the Federation Council's being a bunch of Human-centered jerks." Pike sighed, and kept a steady gaze on the Vulcan. "Spock, do you think you could work with Kirk as your Commanding Officer?"

Spock instantly imagined what Nyota would say if she were the recipient of this question. Her eyes would flash and she would say, "My _**what**__!?_" For his part, he said mildly,"It seems somewhat premature, sir, because he is, at the most, a Lieutenant, and at the least, a cheating Academy First Classman who was on academic suspension when he was smuggled aboard by Dr. McCoy."

"I'm personally recommending him, via subspace, for a medal. But Starfleet came up with this little surprise in today's subspace traffic." Pike held up a PADD, pressed a button, and Spock beheld: _"KIRK, James Tiberius, Lieutenant, Starfleet. Field Promotion to the rank of CAPTAIN (O-6) shall be effective immediately upon Captain Pike's promotion, to be granted command of __**USS ENTERPRISE **__before the Board of Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Command."_

Spock fixed his wide-eyed gaze on Pike's for a moment. "It is unheard of to field-promote a junior officer to such a senior command position," he managed to say.

"I know," Pike sighed. "But they want him here as Captain and they want you as First Officer. They need you both, for political reasons. Unless you decide to go on to the Vulcan Colony project.

"Don't give up the _Enterprise_ because of Command's decision. I actually think you and Kirk will make an ideal team, Spock, if you can adjust your thinking to accept his odd, intuitive processes, and you can start adjusting _his_ to accept more logical processes. With you as his sensible, mature advisor, his 'rational mind,' as it were, the two of you will do great credit to Starfleet, I promise you. Will you give it a try?"

Spock blinked. Considered. Breathed. "If you will counsel him to regard the advice his senior -- his more mature officers give him, I will be honored to respect your wishes, if only because I trust your judgement, Captain."

Pike nodded, and extended his right hand. Spock took it [a show of deep respect for a Human on his part], reading a flood of positive intentions with a strong and high regard for him, the Vulcan who had lost so much, yet saved the Earth. Spock stood to leave.

"Not so fast, Commander … I know you don't care much for public ceremonies, Spock, so I'm giving you this now. I'm proud to have worked with you."

With a brilliant smile and shining eyes, Pike handed him a PADD, whereon a letter appeared:

"Subject: _SPOCK, Commander, Starfleet, Meritorious Service._"

"Thank you, sir," Spock said.

"Starfleet Headquarters will issue the medal when we report back. Be sure to wear it the next time you dress up. I feel better already. Ah … and here's Dr. McCoy."

With a face like a thundercloud, the doctor pointed at Spock and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Out. Sir." As Spock left, he heard the doctor's voice: "With all due respect, how're you ever gonna get any better if you insist on visitin' with every goddamned officer on this ship, is what I'd like to know. Now go to sleep! That's an order, Captain!"

Spock, as he was acculturated to do, swallowed his anger as he left Sickbay. Captain Pike was correct: the Federation, and Starfleet, had always been Human-centered. Now he had to take second place to a Human because of this attitude, even though he had achieved _more_. At least Pike admitted the injustice and regretted it. Starfleet was not always the meritocracy it claimed to be. Officers who were friendly with him at the Academy had warned him of this possibility: Starfleet, as an arm of the Federation, was sometimes adversely affected because of Federation politics. Most of the time well-qualified officers did not suffer from this, but occasionally -- as now -- they did.

This fuelled a thought in Spock that perhaps he _should_ be with the other Vulcans as they established their new world. They would need his skills, even if they didn't desire his DNA.

But he would not be any more comfortable there than here. Spock remembered the taunting he'd gotten as a mature teenager in physical skills classes, such as _Suus-Mahna_, in which every young man wore skin-tight leggings and no shirt. [Female classes were held separately.] Vulcan males were generally smoother-chested; some had hair, but it was very fine, not the dark swirls of hair that his own chest and lower arms bore.

Vulcan male private parts were mostly different from Spock's; the penis was generally drawn up inside a bodily sheath, except during sexual excitement, activity, or _Pon Farr, _and the testes, in a very tight scrotal sac, were very close to the body_. _Spock was called "hairy primate," or "pendulous-balled," or "dangly penis." "Are you sexually excited by males?" they would ask him. And at least once he'd replied, giving them his fathomless black glare, "If I were, as members of Vulcan society, you are supposed to be accepting of that choice."

Because _Suus-Mahna _had been designed by Vulcans and practiced by Vulcans, a less-than-powerful kick given the private parts did not incapacitate the receiving party in practice sessions. So, as soon as his classmates witnessed the effects on Spock of strikes aimed at that area, he endured constant kicks during one class, inadequately nursed his injuries after limping home and saying nothing to his parents; endured harsher kicks in the next class and finally fallen to the floor, crawled to the sidelines, and reluctantly complied when the instructor had ordered him to visit the Healers down the hall. The Healers, prepared for all manner of sports injuries, quickly administered cold packs and herbal poultices that staved off much of the bruising and damage, but not much of the pain. The Healers consulted with some Humans at the Embassy, and provided Spock with a protective garment against future groin injuries. The pain, Spock endured in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Since the death of Vulcan, Uhura and Spock had been together every night, unless one of them was on duty, and now Spock was off-duty by order of the Acting Captain.

Over and over, in her mind's eye, Nyota saw the terrible beauty of Vulcan's implosion, the planet's beautiful red-gold and tan outer crust falling apart, being drawn in to flashing nothingness. She had noted how very much more subdued Spock was ever since his mother had died. She nestled close to Spock every night, hoping he might expend some of his tightly-wound energy in lovemaking, but he had not moved to do so, not once.

On this night, she chose to try initiating lovemaking by joining hands with him as he lay down beside her. No response but a stiffening of his torso, as he drew away slightly. Nyota turned to look into his eyes, which were tightly closed. She took her hand from his and gently touched his face, tracing his jaw line with the pad of her finger, touching her lips to his cheek, then his neck, down to his collarbone. She nuzzled his chest hair gently, moving her lips to one nipple and kissing it. His body tightened and he gasped, but it sounded more like pain than pleasure.

"Spock … may I make love to you?"

He opened his eyes and saw her loving gaze and his face constricted as he shook his head, once. "Hold me," he said. He gulped what appeared to be a sob and stretched out his arms for her. As she moved in to hold him tightly, she could sense, through their bond, her relative coolness covering his extreme heat, mitigating his hurt and anger and loss. She enveloped him like a soft ocean wave, and he eventually fell asleep.

A few hours later, Uhura could see herself in a dream, standing with Spock's mother, talking and laughing and touching hands and arms in the way of familial Human females.

_They were on a terrace overlooking Vulcan's red-brown, unforgiving mountains, in Amanda's rose garden, and Amanda handed Nyota a beautiful yellow rose, saying, "Yellow roses symbolize lasting love. This is what you will have with my son. I am so glad you found one another!" _

_And Uhura said, "It is so good to be with you, to know that Spock had your support when he was growing up. You have been so dear to him."_

"_Oh … my __**support**__. Sometimes my __**longing**__ for him to let his Human side out was pure torture for my son. I embarrassed him so much." Amanda looked down._

"_You loved him for all that he was, and is. As I love him." And Nyota's gaze met Amanda's shining eyes as she gently clasped her hand._

_Suddenly, terrible images of falling rocks and fire and heat … and two Human female bodies, broken side by side in a rose garden of smashed bushes, killed by the same rocks …_

… and a horrible, soul-ripping pain through her mind --

Uhura jerked awake to see Spock, still heavily asleep as he had slept for the last week, hair a mess, body twisted, tears glistening on his thick eyelashes and running down his cheeks. He was torturously breathing, murmuring in a pleading voice, "Oh, _no_, Nyota … I cannot … please … I cannot live--"

She shook him awake; she couldn't bear to watch any more, to hear any more of his nightmare words. "I'm here, Spock; _Mpenzi_, I will never leave you. Oh, beloved, beloved," she added in Vulcan. Blindly he held her, his breath heaving in those awful, silent sobs.

"She would have loved you," he said at last.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

The next night, before the nightmare had a chance to fully take him, Spock roused himself, dressed, and went to the Observation Deck to meditate. He contemplated his mother's love and all the awkwardness it had entailed, such as wearing the sweaters she had knitted for him. They were well-made and quite warm, but highly unusual attire for a Vulcan. Spock did not care. He wore them because he loved his mother and the sweaters were very comfortable. She always took care in selecting colors, and knitted things that looked excellent on him.

He remembered the day he'd gone before the Science Academy Board; how she'd fussed with his collar that did not need adjusting. It was an excuse for her to touch him and they both knew it. So he gently grasped her wrists, then her hands, and held them for a long moment, one form of embrace that he could perform without embarrassment.

As a child who wanted to be Vulcan but was half-Human, he had always been puzzled by her easy embrace of emotion. He could not understand how easily she bore them, but eventually he came to know, through many discussions with her, that this was her natural sense of self. Yes, sometimes she struggled with emotions, especially in public with his father, but, being Human, she accepted them in herself.

Spock, on the other hand, could not accept his emotions, and when he had heard about the discipline of _Kolinahr_, the Vulcan ritual to rid oneself of all emotion, he had thought it would save him. He had been about to embrace it when he went before the Science Academy Board, then decided to abandon Vulcan for Starfleet Academy.

Now he was thankful for emotion. Even the pain reminded him of his mother. The sadness, beating with his heart, breathing with his lungs, residing within his mind.

The dreams were another form of pain, but terrible, because usually Nyota was in them too, dying alongside his mother. He could not bear that idea. He wanted to avoid sleep to prevent such nightmares, but he was so very, very tired.

The next morning, he went to see Doctor McCoy.

McCoy brought him in to his private office. The doctor was perhaps being oversensitive, but Spock appreciated the gesture.

The tall Human leaned forward in his chair. "How've you been, Spock?"

"I am extremely fatigued, and request you provide me one of your nostrums to aid me in sleeping without dreaming."

"Dreams waking you up? Disturbing your sleep?"

"Yes to both."

"All right, Spock. Why don't you have a cup of tea or something. I need to consult my Vulcan formulary for something suitable."

The doctor stepped out of his office, and Spock went to the food processor and ordered calming _f'canth _tea. And some sesame biscuits, like the ones his mother had given him in childhood.

McCoy came back with a small vial of pills, and gave Spock the instructions. "The only bad thing about this stuff is, you'll sleep like the dead, so turn up all the volumes on your alerts and commlinks. And drink plenty of water."

"Very well. Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, Spock. And, listen … if you need to talk, at any time, about anything …? I'm here." As Spock tilted his head, about to make some inquiry, McCoy amended his last: "I'm willing to listen to anything you tell me, and I will, on my honor as a physician, keep it a secret."

"Understood," Spock said. "I will consider it."

_Like hell he will,_ McCoy thought as he watched the Commander, straight-backed as ever, exit the Sickbay.

A few hours later, McCoy was having lunch in the Dining Hall, and noticed Ambassador Sarek, sipping tea and eating who-knew-what. Something vegetarian; McCoy knew at least that much about Vulcan culture. He finished his food, put his tray in the recycler, and carrying a mug of coffee, braced himself and approached the Vulcan. "Ambassador Sarek, I wonder if I might speak with you for a few moments."

One of Sarek's eyebrows ascended slightly, and he gestured to the seat opposite him. "You are welcome to speak here, unless it is a private matter."

McCoy perched on the chair, because it was a private matter. "Might you have time to meet with me in my office in Sickbay?"

"Of course," Sarek said. "Permit me to finish my meal, and I will join you there."

"Thank you, sir."

In Sickbay, McCoy drank his coffee and waited nervously, his right knee jogging up and down as he sat. A fellow medical student from New York had once called it "coffee leg," and McCoy had told him, "I've been doin' it since before I ever drank my first cup of coffee, so _that's_ not an accurate diagnosis," and they had both laughed.

The signal sounded at his door and McCoy jumped up to show the Ambassador to the seat in front of his desk.

"Ambassador Sarek, I can't share any specifics with you because of my medical oath," he began. "But I need for you to know that Commander Spock may benefit from speaking with you about … all … that's happened."

"We spoke on the day Kirk returned to the _Enterprise_, Doctor." He did not say, _on the day my son nearly killed Kirk._

"And that's it?" McCoy blurted out. He closed his eyes. _Vulcans. Step carefully …_

"Sorry. I think he may need to talk with you some more. He was in to see me this morning. That's really all I can tell you, and it's overstepping my bounds to tell you even that much."

"I understand, Doctor," said Sarek. "Is that all you wished to discuss with me?"

Since the Ebon Column himself was sitting right there, McCoy decided to talk with him some more. "May I get you some tea, Ambassador? I think we should discuss the general medical progress of my Vulcan patients."


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Things were very quiet on the Bridge this shift, and Uhura was in a prickly mood. She could not occupy her mind with work right now. Repairs were proceeding apace; her technicians were quite competent and well-supplied; there was very little message traffic, and although she weighed the possible consequences of the confidential message from Starfleet Command to Captain Pike, there was little else to capture her interest. Her section had done very well in practice drills today, she had reported this; she had been listening to static and space noise for hours with no signals of any kind evident; now her head hurt and her vision was blurred.

Over and over, she saw the terrifying ship _Narada,_ and that field of broken starships.

The body parts, the deckplates and hull tiles, the severed nacelles, the frozen bodies entire. Drifting in the absolute zero of space.

Her gaze, though distant, was hard. She hated Nero with everything in her. He had robbed Spock of his _heritage, _of his _planet, _of his _people. _He had killed over 2,000 Starfleet members, many of them her fellow classmen. And now he was dead_. _Well_ good, _six billion, two thousand times over_. _But she still felt the hurt and anger burning in her. Part of her wished Nero could suffer a thousand deaths, die a million times, suffer six billion times. But that was what had made him insane in the first place, the death of _his_ planet. Vengeance was dizzying in its complications and ultimate fruitlessness.

She stood up and moved to the captain's chair. "Sir," she said, "May I speak with you for a moment?"

She had developed a reluctant respect for Kirk. Before he and Spock had beamed over to _Narada_ to retrieve Captain Pike and keep Nero from using the Red Matter on Earth, Uhura had fixed a Romulan translator device to Spock's utility belt. After giving Spock a thorough and loving good-bye, she had gazed fiercely at the acting captain (_You had better bring Spock safely back!_) and Kirk had nodded. And sure enough, he and Spock had come back. [Although Spock would contend he had returned _himself_ safely, Uhura felt Kirk was responsible for the crazy scheme in the first place].

"Lieutenant, I hope you'll forgive my saying this, but you look kind of tired." Kirk's sky-blue eyes minutely examined her face.

"I am _very_ tired, sir, and I wondered if I could be excused to see the doctor."

"You're not coming down with something --" Kirk instantly seemed to see the grief in her eyes. "Of course, you're excused. Hope you feel better soon." He keyed a switch. "Lieutenant Gray, to Bridge for early shift relief at Comms Station."

"Doctor McCoy, I am seeing those ships and dead people over and over … I can't stop thinking about Gaila Mah'naz, my Academy roommate … I've been edgy and in a horrible mood lately. It's not just grief … it feels like rage. Is that normal?"

"Yeah, I think so. You're in a pretty deep relationship with Spock, right?"

Uhura nodded, wiping her over-spilling tears.

"I guess you haven't talked with him about it … two thousand-plus kind of pales compared with six billion, doesn't it."

Thinking of Spock's losses as well as her own, Nyota began to sob in earnest, and the sounds came from some deeper part of her voice, the same range in which she laughed, and McCoy, coming to gently hold her, thought it was too long since he had heard her laugh. Her slender back was jerking with the force of her hoarse crying. "I'm sorry, that was tactless of me … It's okay, Doc's here. I'm here."

After a while, he parted gently from her and got her a glass of water and a few wipes from his desk for her to clean her face. He had a big damp, snotty spot on his uniform, but he didn't care. "I'll sign you up with Doctor Pradesh; she's a grief counselor. The Vulcans are depending on each other for that, if the green-blooded so-and-sos even _have_ that issue, I don't know --"

Uhura glared. "You can be damned sure they do," she snapped. "You saw Spock's reaction when Kirk kept insulting him. My God, Doctor! Can you do me a favor? Can you _please_ not refer to Vulcans as cold-blooded, pointy-eared bastards, green-blooded hobgoblins and those other ugly phrases I've heard you muttering? Their civilization is _different_. It's not a failed attempt at being Humans. And it's senior to ours by about **five thousand years**. So can we agree that I won't be hearing that racist _crap_ from you?"

McCoy came over and sat down near her on the biobed. He looked at her with that worried expression, his dark hazel eyes serious. "I never thought about it, Uhura. I'm sorry I offended you. Spock doesn't seem to care about the epithets and I was just venting." He reached out and tentatively patted her shoulder. "I'll vent out of your hearing, all right?"

She sighed explosively. "You know that _is _a compromise. I _want_ you to knock it off altogether."

"I promise, I'll try. Keep after me. As for Doctor Pradesh: I'll alert you as soon as she's available. I want you to talk with her. Meanwhile, rest, go swimming, work out, do something. Try let your anger and grief out in appropriate ways. Otherwise, don't brood too much, okay?"

She went to the gym and took a "dance-ercise" class and followed it with some kickboxing practice exercises on the heavy bag in one corner. That bag was Nero. It was every evil thing people had ever done. It was her own rage. _Bam!! Bam!! Bam!! Bam!! _She kicked hard, and punched hard, _Bap! Bap! Bap! _

Uhura showered, tired in body, but her mind kept going back to that terrible scene when they had come out of warp. _Oh, Gaila. Oh, my friends from Choir … my classmates … I wish that you are well. I pray that you made it out of there … Well, hell, while I'm praying for you I should be praying for everybody, right? And I know everybody did not make it out of there. _

_So where do I get off praying for a select few? How do I pray in a situation like this? Doesn't God love Romulans too? Even sick, mixed-up ones like Nero? He went crazy because he lost his planet and his wife, after all. If I could pray and know it would make a difference, I'd pray for this never to have happened! __Can I be one who can simply pray to forgive those who "trespass against us"?_

_And oh, my Spock, I miss cradling you in my arms all night in soft, restorative sleep, or being cradled. I miss your desert-hot, soft skin. I especially miss making love with you. I miss your chest hair that sometimes irritates my skin. I miss kissing you. You are such a divine kisser, did you know? And the touch of your hands, those sensitive fingertips, and the touch of your mind … _

She went to her quarters and cried for awhile, washed her face, and called Spock. On the view screen, clad in a casual Vulcan robe and soft pants, he looked tired. "May I come to see you?" she asked.

He frowned a little, not in displeasure, and nodded. It was the same look he had worn in the turbo lift. That intense look she interpreted as need. She put on a front-zip casual print cotton dress [because Spock's quarters were quite warm, like her equatorial homeland], and walked to his quarters unnoticed.

She had just begun to buzz at the door when it opened and he was there, gathering her into his arms, hardly waiting for the door to close before, nostrils flaring gently, he began scenting all over her face, neck, and hair, inhaling her fragrances, bodily and applied. In turn, she kissed him, starting with his warm, soft lips, and moving up his jaw to his ear, down his cheek … "I love you, Spock," she murmured.

He put a finger to her lips, shaking his head. "Please, _k'diwa, _let us be silent together …" Nodding, she took his finger into her mouth slowly, and he began lapping her neck with his hot tongue, around to the nape of her neck, where he inhaled her scent deeply, licked harder and then gathered her nape hair in his teeth, growling a bit. This licking and biting was a distant remnant of Vulcanity's Felid ancestors, and it made Nyota wild with desire. _Thank the gods Vulcan tongues aren't as raspy as cat tongues,_ she thought.

She was tonguing his collarbone and stroking his pectorals and he was now lapping her ear and kissing it alternately, gently nipping her earlobe, purring and exhaling into her ear. "Mmmm," Nyota couldn't help but give voice. He unfastened her dress. She wore nothing else. Spock clasped her tightly at her lower waist; she sighed heavily, arching her body back, and his mouth descended to her breasts. She groaned as her nipples tightened and budded, responding to the heated moisture of his lips and tongue. She could feel herself heating and her center getting wet with the hardening length of him against her lower abdomen. She loosened his trousers, finding he wore no underwear.

She unfastened his robe and, hands on his muscled shoulders, pulled herself up on his lower torso so she was at his waist; he held her there and, stepping out of his pants, moved toward the bulkhead, pressing her back against it and himself into her, slowly, very slowly, and she felt her world suddenly shrinking to the two of them, needing and loving each other. Her legs gripped tightly around him, and frowning, eyes closed, he began to move faster within her, and faster still, but there was no release for either of them. She put a finger under his chin and he looked at her. She motioned to the bed with her eyes.

They took a long time with each other that night. Of course they trusted each other implicitly, but their universe had changed so drastically that, just now, they could not practice their old patterns of thought and ways of being. They pleasured each other, but not so easily as in the past, and eventually coupled again, achieving a slow-building climax that left Nyota sweaty, breathless, and weeping with joy at being alive and with sadness for those who were no longer. And when Spock opened his eyes to her, his too were wet. Nyota felt as though she and Spock were physically fulfilled, but somehow still spiritually separate … unusual for them because their telepathic bond usually leapt alive during their sexual congress. Tonight it had not; Spock had damped down his receptivity. She could feel he was "there" but not what he was feeling. _That _was why things had been so difficult … they'd made love Human-style, a rarity for them.

They showered together, gently shampooed each other's hair, lathered each other's backs with scented soap in massaging strokes, patted each other dry with thick towels. Spock took a pill and he fell into bed beside her. They were grateful for one another, not having spoken a coherent word.

Late that night, Nyota woke hearing a strange noise. It was somewhat rhythmic and sounded almost like a single high tenor note, wheezed again and again, with pauses in between. Spock was not in bed; perhaps he was meditating on the Observation Deck "Lights, thirty per cent," Uhura said. She thought there might be a problem in the air circulation system and decided to follow the noise to its source.

It was coming from the bathroom. She opened the door and the low lights from the sleeping area spilled in. Spock sat curled up in the corner, the crown of his head touching the bulkhead, his chin up, tears and snot glistening on his jaw line, neck, and upper chest. He did not even seem to sense her presence, but inhaled and _keened_, his arms tightening their grip around his folded-up knees. Up close, the sound prickled the hair on Uhura's neck. She had heard of the _vlur,_ the plaintive mourning howl, but never witnessed it. She was not aware modern Vulcans even did it.

She quickly sat beside him and scooted near him, reaching out her arms for him, but he shrank away, crying out in Vulcan, "_**Ri-i-i! **__Uf kup nash-veh hato-o-o-r-r..! [No! _How can this one _live?_] He keened again. "How can I live?" he repeated, over and over, his throat thick with tears and his eyes swollen from weeping. Nyota sat with him, hearing his heartbreak and his loss, echoing it but faintly with her own silent tears.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Late that morning, Spock went to see Doctor McCoy about the sleeping aid, saying only that he had become extremely dehydrated. "That led to consequences which I will keep private, but were quite undesirable," he finished.

McCoy frowned at him, taking a reading with his medical scanner, thought a second, and consulted his computer. "Oh, god_damn_ it," the doctor muttered. "Spock, I apologize. I gave you a dose for a full Vulcan, not … one with Human ancestry. No wonder you got so dehydrated. That does it -- I'm requesting a Vulcan specialist be assigned to this ship as soon as we're back. Then, between the two of us, we just might manage to practice the right kind of medicine on you."

"It is my hope, Doctor, that both of you will know what to do immediately, without any sort of practice," Spock said, raising an eyebrow.

McCoy narrowed his eyes at the commander and took the vial of pills from him. He returned a few minutes later with the properly proportioned medication. "Here you go, Spock. Keep taking them for a while, because you need the undisturbed rest. You're exhausted."

Having thought over Doctor McCoy's advice of the previous day, Sarek appeared at Spock's door that afternoon, attired in meditation robes from the Enterprise's clothing processor. The material was not truly as luxurious as Sarek preferred [although it had that appearance], but it was serviceable; Sarek supposed that this would be a reality in his future, since many of his personal assets had disappeared into the black hole that had once been the Vulcan system. His burning anger at losing Amanda and losing his world was already directed and mentally channeled toward establishing a new colony for Vulcan. But Spock, perhaps, had need of more. In any case, Sarek had a request to fulfill.

"Father. Please come in."

"Spock, I inquire as to your well-being."

"I am well enough, Father."

Sarek, an ambassador for many years, could read his son admirably, despite Spock's attempts to minimize his reactions. Spock appeared exhausted. Sarek simply stood with his son, silently watching him, staying present in the moment together. Eventually he said, "Will you come sit in meditation with me?"

"Do you not prefer to meditate alone?"

"I had a wife to return to. Now I do not."

Spock looked sharply at him. Sarek did not normally speak so bluntly.

"Very well, Father. I will accompany you."

Spock and his father went forward, to the Observation Deck. There was a room for meditation which Sarek had scheduled daily for this hour. Spock had begun meditating in the middle of the ship's "night;" Sarek had noticed his name on the schedule, and pointed it out.

"You normally rest or perform scientific research or do other things in your quarters during this hour, do you not, my son? Why have you begun keeping this schedule?"

"My rest has been disturbed, and I have not been able to concentrate to the degree required for research."

They seated themselves but Sarek had not yet lit the candles, nor did they assume the meditative posture. Sarek watched his son.

Spock bowed his head. "I have been dreaming," he said in a low voice.

"It is quite normal for dreams to occur after significant life events," Sarek said.

"…in Humans, Father. Not in Vulcans."

"Really? I have dreamt of your mother every rest period since her death."

Spock raised his eyes to meet Sarek's. "You …? I have had dreams of death and destruction every night … and I not only lose Mother, I lose Nyota too." He sighed. "I also had a dream that I succeeded in breaking Kirk's neck. Father, how can I reconcile myself to what he did, and what I did?"

"Humans seem to desire catharsis after a trauma."

"He provoked me to help me to _catharsis_?"

Sarek said, "Kirk understands only your emotional side. I believe he thought it necessary to wrest control of the ship from you, as you would not voluntarily take yourself off duty. While your loyalty to Captain Pike's orders was admirable, it seemed to interfere with your capability to see everything clearly."

"Captain Pike was a significant mentor to me at Starfleet Academy."

"A father figure, when I would not be.'

"There are different types of fathers, Sarek."

"I was one type before, my son. Now I endeavor to be one who honors you as you are."

"We have each done the best we could." There was a pause, and Spock took a deep breath. "Father, do you forgive me?"

"For joining Starfl --?"

"For Mother's death," Spock said.

"It is not you who are to blame, Spock. That person is Nero. He drilled into the planet's core and inserted Red Matter. He caused the earthquakes and the singularity. The dropping away of rocks beneath your mother's feet meant that she dropped out of the transporter coordinates. I have spoken with Ensign Chekov about this."

"But I was holding her arm …"

"And she _stepped away from you,_ Spock. She was always very aware of your dignity as a Starfleet officer. And she turned to reassure you that she was alright. I saw this. I saw … her last moments."

Father and son looked at each other, then deeply engaged their gazes. Spock felt a sensation from Sarek he had not since he was a little child -- a deep, abiding love, free of judgement.

After a while, Sarek broke the comfortable silence. "Spock, your mother asked me to do something when the seismic shifts began. On our way to the Katric Ark she said that "in case anything were to happen to her," she wanted me to … celebrate her life with you. That you and I should join in meditation, or better still, in a mind-meld, and recall memories of her. Would you be willing?"

Spock's eyes looked so much like his mother's, and now they shone in the same way.

"I would be honored, my father," he said huskily.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Nyota swam. This morning Spock had told her that the _vlur _was very rare. After their lovemaking last night, he had taken one of his prescribed sleeping aids, which had dehydrated him terribly, making him quite vulnerable to feelings. He hadn't had the nightmare, but thirst had urged him awake to get some water. He had not yet reached the dispenser when he'd collapsed to the floor, overcome by dizziness and grief, where Uhura had found him.

She and Spock had finally returned to bed in the early morning and slept for a short time together, but not nestled; Spock did not want Nyota to experience the nightmare if he should have it. And he was not about to take another pill until he spoke with McCoy.

He was suffering terrible survivor's guilt, because of the way his mother had died, no doubt. Uhura had heard all about it from Chekov, who was trying to figure out how guilty he himself was for Lady Amanda's death. As Uhura saw it, no one was guilty but Nero. Chekov had done his best operating the transporter and Spock had escorted the Vulcan Elders from the Katric Ark, risking his own life in the process.

Her own survivor's guilt and horror were nothing next to Spock's. The 'Fleet ships bore Starfleet personnel and a few families, perhaps; some senior officers traveled with their spouses and children. But everyone on a starship knew of the possible dangers of the service. No one on a _planet_ expected to become part of a black hole.

How many children and elders had perished on Vulcan? How many new and nursing mothers? Just marrieds? Couples in their later years of marriage? Proud young scientists, fresh from the Vulcan Academy? Craftspeople and musicians and artists? Vulcan engineers and architects? Writers of analysis and poets? How many peacemakers?

She wondered if, when they got back to Earth, they would finish the Academy year per usual and have the graduation ceremony. If the chorus was still scheduled to sing. She might as well practice her solo. The music was a 20th century piece by Eric Whittaker based on e.e. cummings' "i thank you God for this most amazing" … which she supposed would be applicable for the event of their return, as it would be an amazing day, or for the event of Earth's survival, for which they could all thank Spock, this most amazing Vulcan, or whatever. She would go to the recreation deck later to practice. Singing might help heal her spirit.

The swimming pool was the same size as the Academy pool, a good place to work off excess energy, then float meditatively, eyes fixed on a ceiling designed to recall the skies of Earth. Images of fluffy white clouds came and went, and Uhura breathed and floated, focusing softly on the "sky" above. She decided she would swim in the evenings too, when the shipboard "skies" went into twilight and, later, night mode, so that she could see the stars of home, as if she were swimming in the ocean off Mombasa. She wanted so much to be with her family.

Father and son sat together, after a while, in silence after their meld, when Sarek spoke. "You know, now, that I truly married your mother for love."

Spock, whose heart was overflowing, could only nod. He was mentally reviewing everything he could from the meld to hold his mother's actions and words in his eidetic memory. (As a child and young man, he had trained his mind to hold images and sounds and other senses, but his memory had only come to full capability in his late teens, when he was fully occupied with his studies.)

Now he saw and heard Amanda on the day, dark eyes sparkling, she had verbally challenged and bested his father, leading to a "fascination" that led to a "logical" romance, and how, after a few months, Sarek had asked Amanda to marry him.

_They stood together at the top of Peace Tower, in New York City, after Sarek had concluded successful negotiations with the Romulans' designated delegation to the Federation Council, meeting in New York City in the old United Nations headquarters. [The Romulans had sent a neutral party to negotiate on their behalf; they did not wish to interact directly with the Federation.] _

_Amanda's eyes were alight with happiness because Sarek had achieved such a goal, with her help [because of her work on the Universal Translator project, she had perfected not only her Vulcan but her Romulan, and was able to aid him directly in the negotiations to establish the Neutral Zone]. She and Sarek had developed a communication so instantaneous it almost seemed that they had a mental link already. _

"_I love this view," Amanda said. It was dusk, and sunset still lit the sky at the edges, reflecting on the buildings' exteriors, painting them burnt orange-to-pink, and lights in the lower stories of the skyscrapers were beginning to wink on._

"_Architecture on Vulcan is equally fascinating," Sarek told her._

"_Oh, everything on Vulcan is equally or more fascinating to you," Amanda said in her "pooh!" tone. "Isn't there anything on Earth that you can't find a better version of on your home world?"_

_Sarek turned away from the view for a moment to look at her, and when Amanda met his eyes, his gaze was full of love. There was no other word to describe that particular look. In the past, Amanda had thought of it as "friendship" or "fondness," but in this moment she knew it for what it truly was._

"_Besides Earth's forests and oceans … you, Amanda. There is no better version of you on Vulcan."_

_Her expressive dark eyes gleamed as she smiled sweetly. She touched his arm, which was the only kind of physical contact they had ever made, and that, only recently. "You are terribly sweet."_

_Sarek made a tiny expression, that, had he been Human, would have been a roll of the eyes or a shake of his head. "Amanda, I was bonded long ago, in my youth, and have survived my dead wife by fourteen years. I am sixty-seven years of age, beginning the prime of my life. I wish to share the coming years with you as my bond-mate, if you are agreeable."_

_She clasped her hands together under her chin, looking up at him, beaming. "You're asking me to marry you!"_

"_Yes, I believe that is the Human term for it."_

"_You know it is. Why do you pretend ignorance of our Human expressions?"_

"_Because it amuses you so when I do it." Sarek raised the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand, and held them up to Amanda. She tilted her head a bit and raised her hand, fingers extended, an inquisitive expression on her face. Sarek nodded, a tiny nod, and touched his fingers to hers._

"_Oh, Sarek," Amanda sighed, smiling broadly and shutting her eyes briefly as his mind reached out to hers. "You __are__ sweeter than I ever guessed."_

_------------------_


	9. Chapter 9

**9. **

_**Amanda wore a tearful smile the day she and Sarek married**_**. **_**He had spoken much to her of his home world, and shown her, through mental images and holovids, what it was like, but those images were colored through his experience as a Vulcan. Their marriage ceremony was one of two worlds -- the Human promises to love, honor and cherish, Amanda's white dress veil, and roses, Sarek's most formal robes, "You may kiss the bride" -- followed immediately by the Vulcan bonding ceremony, a formal deepening and more permanent connection than the bond they already experienced. It was emotionally thrilling to Amanda to be part of Sarek's very consciousness, and the same went for him.**_

_**But how would she, as a Human, ever get along on his planet? She was far too expressive, for one thing. Smiling made many Vulcans think you were crazy, or foolish, or simple. During their engagement, Sarek had counseled her, through their early, self-initiated bond, in how to "school" her expressions when with other Vulcans. She would be perfectly free, once she was at home, to smile the beautiful smile that Sarek treasured … and to express her emotions through the precious, deep, mind-link she and Sarek established on their bonding day.**_

_**Hugging them all, brothers, mother, father, school friends, family friends, colleagues and cousins, good-bye after the reception -- which celebration Sarek had tolerated most diplomatically -- Amanda knew she would miss her Human companions, and she would miss the ease of communication on Earth. A smile exchanged with a stranger, a murmur of mutual appreciation at an art museum. And there was much about Earth itself she would miss -- the oceans and forests being the major things. She'd grown up in the Pacific Northwest of the US of America. She had always lived near the water, and salty air and cool rainforests felt as necessary to her as breathing. **_

_**Sarek understood much of this through conversation and observation. When they had gone to Oregon so Sarek could meet Amanda's parents, he had examined their home with great interest -- Professor Grayson and his wife, Professor Vernet, pulled moisture from Earth's atmosphere, drew energy from the sun's rays, and cooled and heated the home using a self-sustaining environmental system. **_

_**Self-sustaining systems were very old news in Vulcan architecture, but the high-volume water harvesting was something Amanda would require, being Human, ascended on a parallel with primates, and not Vulcan, ascended distantly from water-conserving felidae**__. He immediately communicated with his architect on Vulcan. They would need to design a better water gathering system, perhaps modeling after engineering already in place on Vulcan for hydroponic gardening, to permit his new wife to feel at home. They would also need a good cooling system. _

_And plants. Before they married and took a "honeymoon," as Amanda called it, on Earth, Sarek ensured many indoor Earth plants were shipped to the home, already undergoing redesign, in which he and Amanda would live on Vulcan. Additionally, in the finest Pacific Northwest tradition, he ensured she would have a steady supply of the best espresso coffee beans, milk, cinnamon and chocolate, and an excellent grinder and machine for making her ever-present cappuccinos and mochas. He enjoyed surprising her and hoped she would feel welcome in the home they would share._

------------------

_Their weeks-long honeymoon took them to several National Parks of the US of Africa and America, where they appreciated the wildlife and incredible natural beauty. One memorable night of their honeymoon, he and Amanda had enjoyed a lovely dinner at a US National Park lodge on the rim of the Grand Canyon [parts of which resembled natural formations on Vulcan, Sarek reminded Amanda], and they sat out on the large deck, watching the sunset, sipping mochas Amanda had ordered when Sarek had stepped away to greet a fellow diplomat._

_Fortunately, the diplomat and her family had not joined Sarek and Amanda for mochas on the terrace, because Sarek became … playful. Amanda didn't understand it at first. It started when she said something amusing and Sarek didn't merely permit his eyes to register his amusement. He smiled. A close-mouthed smile, but still! And then she said something else, and he had to swallow a little too quickly to avoid spitting mocha out through his nasal passages, because he almost laughed. And he coughed a bit, something she had never seen him do. He continued to sip his drink, because it tasted very good to him, and the effect was quite delightful. They were almost done with their mochas and Amanda ordered two more._

"_**K'diwa**__, my beloved, we must go," Sarek said in an undertone. He was beginning to purr._

"_But we're not done watching the sunset, darling. Please, let's watch the stars come out."_

_He touched his fingers to hers, then gently grasped her hand, communicating silently._

"_You're what?!" Amanda giggled, then whispered, "Oh, my tipsy darling, let's do stay and enjoy. We'll have such fun later." _

_And they did. _Sarek, of course, did not show Spock that part.

_They spent a few days in the wine country of California and a week in France [Sarek, although alcohol did not make him drunk, proved an excellent wine connoisseur], and the last two days in a funny old hotel with a view of the __**Tour Eiffel**__. _

"_I suppose the Concierge here is a good model for me to train with," Amanda muttered one night as they reached the top landing of the staircase._

_Sarek made an inquiring look._

"_She's a __**terror**__, Sarek," Amanda whispered of the little old lady. "She keeps examining us with those gimlet eyes as if we are criminals on the run from the law. Don't you think Vulcan people will look at me in the same way?"_

_Sarek did not answer her question, but said, "She has not dealt with a great many Vulcans, my wife. Shall I re-introduce myself and ensure she understands that we are married?"_

_Amanda began giggling, then laughing, and collapsed against the door for support, shaking her head. "Don't you dare exhibit your diplomacy, darling. I don't think she could stand it!"_

_------------------_


	10. Chapter 10

10.

_Indeed, Amanda experienced dismay upon arriving at Vulcan, greeted by the "stony basilisks" at Vulcan Space Central. There was not a smile or a head tilt among them. Not that she expected smiles, but Sarek had shown through example that some Vulcans exhibited body language. "No, my wife," he said on the way to their new home, "I taught myself to use body language to communicate better with Humans and other races."_

"_Oh, Sarek," she groaned, when they arrived at the house, "What shall I do? I'll never fit in here." They sat in the entry hall, removing their outdoor shoes, to put on beautifully crafted Vulcan slippers._

_He stood to give her his hand, and she rose. "You will learn more about 'reading' my people. I think you will come to feel more at ease here. Meanwhile, my wife, I have endeavored to make you feel most welcome in this house."_

_As they entered the first sitting room, where they would entertain guests, Amanda gasped with surprise. Greenery stood in each interior corner, behind beautiful, functional Vulcan-designed furniture. The huge windows were shaded especially for her. There was a silken Kashmiri rug in the colors of autumn on the brown stone floor. _

_More surprises awaited deeper within. The music room had polished wood flooring and redstone walls; Sarek's lyrette had its own stand near a specially designed Vulcan chair, and near it stood Amanda's piano from her parents' house, a very old piano that had taken the journey to Vulcan along with all these other surprises and traveled very well. The music room was open at the top, so the music played therein would reach the rest of the house, but also had dampeners ["should we have a child who must necessarily suffer through an awkward musical stage before we take pleasure in his or her playing," Sarek explained]._

_A kitchen large enough for both of them to work side-by-side … they had taken considerable pleasure in cooking together on Earth after their initial bonding … a table overlooking an indoor waterfall made to use very little water, but circulate moisture through the air so Amanda would experience comfort; a large sheltered pond at its base where __**koi**__, also imported from Earth, swam. "Oh, Sarek, this is delightful!" Amanda exclaimed, watching the nine carp, in colors from solid gold and red, white-black-red speckled, and solid black, swimming in their leisurely, relaxing fashion. _

"_My wife, attend," Sarek said. Amanda raised her eyebrows at him and his eyes twinkled. "You will need to accustom yourself to this."_

"_Oh, I suppose," she mock-pouted, and followed him into the bedroom. There were … implements on the curtained walls. For a moment, she stared at him in incomprehension, and a sick feeling began in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes widened. _

"_My wife, do not be concerned. You recall how I spoke to you of ancient Vulcan tradition." _

_She nodded. Swallowed._

"_These are from our past. My family's past, to be specific. You will see that they are instruments for personal combat." He stood by the wall and indicated each in turn. "The __**lirpa.**__" This was a yard-long weapon with a metal club at one end of a staff and a half-round, lethally sharpened blade affixed at the other. "The __**Ahn-woon.**__" A long strip of cloth or leather with a large heavy bead on each end. __**"**__The __**shek-ho-rah**__, ritual sword, and __**lipitah-ho-ra, **__ritual dagger__**.**__ These were used in ancient days to claim a mate. And to defend her, should rivals or enemies come calling. Thus, their traditional placement in the bedroom. We Vulcans are very territorial about our primary relationships."_

"…_Still?"_

"_Even now. It is considered an indefensible breach of manners to touch another man's woman. Or, another woman's man. You need to remember this, since it is possible you might accidentally give offense by touching someone's hand or arm as you used to do on Earth. And certain males may show disrespect to you."_

"_Or to you, through me?" __**Oh, lord, **__Amanda was thinking. __**What have I got myself into?**_

"… _A Vulcan marriage, my __**k'diwa**__," Sarek answered her, sensing her thought. "Come, sit on the bed; I will show you something."_

_Amanda arched an eyebrow._

"_Later, my dear." Sarek touched a button and sheer curtains surrounded the bed, hiding the weapons from view. "Do you feel more comfortable?"_

"_Yes, thank you, beloved," Amanda answered. Light from an indirect "sun tunnel" flooded the room, even in afternoon, and lit the curtains. There was a huge panel above the bed, filtered from sun during the day, which would become clear at night to reveal the stars._

"_Here is something else I think you will like, my wife," Sarek called._

_Amanda followed the sound of his voice to a bathroom, just off the master bedroom. It, too, was lit with indirect sunlight, and had filtered windows that looked out over the Vulcan landscape, and a bank of plants at every window. Completely lined with brown stone, it featured a bathtub! A shower! Small, soft rugs … an everyday sonic cleanser and toilet, of course … _

"_But I understand how much you need water, my wife, so T'Rial and I designed a re-circulated micro-filtered water system for the house. You should be able to bathe Earth-style every other day or so. The water is treated, circulated and purified by reverse osmosis for re-use."_

_Tears came to her eyes then, and she hugged her husband, who returned her embrace. "One more thing to show you," he murmured, and led her out to the terrace, just off the kitchen. "We can watch sunrises and sunsets here. I think you will enjoy this as well."_

_The air was hot, but the huge terrace was shaded by a large peak coming off the roof of the house._

"_T'Rial did a superb job, redesigning the house," Sarek said, holding her hand and communicating great satisfaction._

"_She certainly did! And I know you had a great deal of input, my darling; thank you so much for this. I am overwhelmed, really." They stood embracing._

------------------

Amanda used the subspace commlink -- necessary for the Ambassador, but so wonderful for her -- to continue working with her colleagues on the Universal Translator Project, at least for a few years until Spock was born. The commlink also gave her a needed outlet for "venting" to her parents about certain things in Vulcan society she found ridiculous, offensive, or hateful. She would sometimes knit while chatting. Of course she discussed, too, the things she found wonderful, such as the loyalty of her few Vulcan friends, Vulcan respect for the arts, and their fascination with the piano that had come from Earth with her.

She enjoyed certain aspects of planet Vulcan. There were hot springs in the L-Langon Mountains, and she and Sarek would hike up to them, and Amanda would sing to her husband.

Sometimes they visited the ocean and other Vulcans would join them to swim, colleagues of Sarek's, old family friends. On several occasions Amanda and her Vulcan female friends went swimming alone, although they professed ignorance of the term "girls' day out." Swimming or bathing on Vulcan was done in the nude, and Amanda soon became used to it; she was fond of "skinny-dipping," herself, but often found the combination of sober faces and pleasure in swimming rather odd.

There was very little splashing done, and no playing in the water except when she and Sarek were alone. Vulcans wore earplugs to spare their sensitive ears, and the Vulcan seawater was dense enough to allow them to float well enough to swim partially above water if they wished. [Sarek had found it quite impossible to float in the pools and lakes of Earth; his skeletal structure and musculature were too dense.]

After a diplomatic mission to the Federation Council, on Earth, Sarek surprised Amanda, who loved gardening, with rose bushes and herbs from Earth and soil suitable for growing them on the terrace. Together, they built an extensive garden where the terrace curved around the side of the house.

She learned Vulcan ways and occasionally [unnoticeably to most] subverted them, and she cultivated a special spark in her eyes to exchange with Sarek at public occasions when she could not show emotion. She developed quite an expertise -- and a good deal of pride -- in her "poker face," as she called it.

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	11. Chapter 11

11.

There were many warm and loving moments Sarek shared with Spock concerning his early years with Amanda, along with the few coldnesses between them; the misunderstandings and stupid fears on both their parts.

Even on the day of Spock's birth they had nearly argued; Sarek had greatly disappointed Amanda by not being there with her as she labored and gave birth. Sarek had fulfilled the traditional Vulcan male's role of staying away from the birth, letting the midwives handle it. The fact that he was doing rather crucial work with the Vulcan Science Council didn't matter to Amanda on that important day, and she had scolded him when he arrived. But, as was usual, they quickly reconciled and were tenderly loving together as they admired and named the miracle that was their son.

Spock could count the few times his mother had nearly succumbed to smiling at her stern Vulcan "judges," whom she remarked had "basilisk stares," and "no sense of humor." Only Sarek had a well-developed sense of humor, which had been part of his attraction for her. Of course Sarek did not appreciate the "Basilisks'" judgments of his marriage, his wife, their son, and all the rest, but being an Ambassador, Sarek had refined his ability to tolerate differences of opinion, and that was what he told Amanda they were, not judgments of superiority, just differences of opinion.

How Amanda loved Spock! His early months had been a delight; she loved gazing into his wise-looking dark eyes. [She thought his eyes looked just like Sarek's; Sarek thought Spock's eyes looked just like Amanda's.] As a babe in arms he had actually spent much of the time attached to his mother by a sling or a frontal carrier she called a snuggly, of which she had knitted several. And she sang to him often; sang, or played clapping games, or played the piano, instilling her love for rhythm and music in him. She spoke in every language she knew, and when he was naughty she used Romulan or Klingon words to get finished with her anger before gently correcting him.

As he grew verbal, at about ten months, Amanda took him for walks. She had only seen Human children in these early development stages, and Vulcan precocity amazed her. She had him help her in the garden [he was fascinated with the growing process], and he could soon name every variety of rose and herb, every part of a plant, and every stage in growth and photosynthesis. At three, he started exclusively learning maths and logic and computer science from Sarek. Amanda, unable to contribute to any of these as well as her husband, practiced music and languages with her son; then, while he learned with his father, studied the latest Linguistics journals, commed with her friends while knitting, or took care of her garden or household matters.

------------------

_Spock came running out onto the terrace one afternoon, followed at a sedate pace by Sarek. "Mother, I have a question!"_

_Amanda put down her knitting and extended her arms. "Yes, Spock?" She embraced him and he looked up at her, a trace of merriment on his face._

"_Can't I laugh or smile if I think something's funny?"_

"_Well, you know what I would answer to that, dear," she smiled, then looked at her husband. "He is half-Human, Sarek; can't he be allowed to feel?"_

"_Of course he can feel, my wife." Sarek touched his fingers to Amanda's as Spock nestled close to her. "But before he goes full-time to school, Spock must learn to conceal and control his feelings."_

"_I guess I'd better not smile any more then," Spock said into the skirt of Amanda's gown. "In Vulcan culture class I smiled at something and the other children called me a chimpanzee."_

_Amanda looked up at her husband, frowning. "Oh, sometimes I get so tired of this. Such nasty children. And what is so horrible about showing feelings?"_

"_You know we are a strong race, Amanda; remember that our past was very violent until Surak gave us the structure of logic. Without that we would not have channeled our intelligence and strength to serve our people. We would be caught up in endless internal struggles between factions or clans. Surak's philosophy has been vital --"_

"_--Yadda, yadda, yadda," Amanda sighed. "You know I understand that, my love. But how does Vulcan prejudice tie in to logic? I will never understand it. Really, calling Spock a 'chimpanzee' because he smiled?"_

"_I know why they did it, Mother. Because I am part Human, they are demeaning me by referring to our distant primate cousins."_

_**He is so bright and eager, **__she thought, as she stroked Spock's soft, straight hair, looking at Sarek patiently, tears forming in her eyes._

"_It is not at all in keeping with Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, nor is it logical," Sarek agreed. "But because of our past, Vulcan society finds expression of emotions to be disgusting, or vulgar. Eventually Spock's classmates will learn the IDIC concepts, and meanwhile, Spock will learn to cope with things that exist, however illogical they may be."_

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	12. Chapter 12

12.

When Spock started full-time school at four years of age, Amanda missed him terribly during the days, waiting with great anticipation for him to get home so they could play music together or she could hear him take his piano lessons. She loved to listen while Sarek taught Spock to play the lyrette, and when they eventually played duets they could bring her to tears of delight.

Spock recalled much of his mother with Sarek's help, and moments he did not know about, or only dimly remembered, came to him through his parents' points of view, except the private things the married do. Discussions of his schooling. The boys and girls who constantly belittled him.

------------------

"_Damn it, Sarek!" Five-year-old Spock heard, as he lay silently crying in his bedroom. "I have had it with these awful children! Do you know what they did this time?" [A pause, while Sarek remonstrated with her.] "No, I will __**not**__ calm down! They followed Spock home, calling him names and -- How dare they throw rocks at our precious child! They are prejudiced little … __**beasts**__ and they should all be taken over someone's knee and spanked! Yes, spanked! And if I catch them, I will personally do it myself, do you hear?" _

"_I have little choice, Amanda; you are shouting."_

"_Speak with those parents and have them talk to those children this instant, Sarek! I mean it! They need to know that prejudice is not __**logical**__ and it cannot be tolerated!"_

_Spock heard a storm of weeping, a door slamming, and his father, quietly calling the parents, describing their behavior, and sometimes _[as Sarek now projected to Spock through their meld]_ getting a good reaction: "I will counsel my son concerning his improper and emotional actions..." and sometimes a very poor one: "Sarek, you married an out-worlder, and your half-breed child must expect this. My daughter has done nothing wrong."_

_In his room, young Spock was reviewing Algebra by this time. It calmed him to concentrate on studying, whether it be mathematics, logic, languages, music or computer science. _

_And, later, when his mother was done weeping, she came to his room, and asked, "Are you all right?"_

_He pulled himself up with the best Vulcan dignity a five-year-old could muster, saying, "You bandaged me earlier. The dermaplasts seem to be working."_

"_Spock." Amanda touched his hand, curled it within hers, kissed it, and embraced him. "My darling. It is wrong for them to treat you that way."_

"_Their way, wrong as it is, simply __**is**__, Mother. I must deal with it."_

"_It is unacceptable, and they need to know it."_

"_But who decides that it is unac- unacceptable, Mother? You? They are Vulcans. We live in Vulcan society. My task now is to live as a Vulcan, and to leave Human ways behind."_

_She drew herself up, frowning a little. "And who told you that Human ways are to be left--"_

"_I did, my wife," Sarek said quietly, entering. "In order for Spock to get along in this society, he must live as a Vulcan, much as you do when you are in public."_

_Sarek and Amanda stepped outside Spock's door, which closed. _

_Amanda's mouth opened slightly, tears filled her eyes, and she said quietly, "So my son cannot even be permitted Human feelings at home?" _

"_He must practice continually. It is not easy for a child his age to exhibit control and then exhibit emotion. He must maintain a structure of logic in his personality."_

_Amanda walked a few paces away from Sarek, her hands folding together and gripping tightly. "My being Human is just a huge drawback, to him and to you. It's a disadvantage to Spock. I have done a disservice to myself and to you simply by marrying into this culture. It was cruel of me to bear your child. I guess I've been pretty stupid."_

"_Amanda." Sarek's voice was quiet. "__**K'diwa. **__You have not been stupid, and we have made every decision together."_

_Her eyes glittered with anger and tears as she came back and stood by Spock's bedroom door. "But you had the advantage. You brought me here. I have tried to fit in, and I don't. I never will. We would have done better to stay on Earth. I have half a mind to go back there just as soon as I can."_

_Spock, all thought of parental privacy and Vulcanness momentarily fled, raced through his doorway to Amanda and attached himself to her lower body. "No, mother, please don't go!"_

"_If I go," she said, crouching to kiss his forehead, "You're going with me."_

"_**Kroy-kah! **__Enough of this!" Sarek said. He was clearly displeased, feeling threatened, in fact. "Spock, continue to prepare your mathematics studies for review, and get ready for bed. My wife, attend."_

_They went outdoors for a long discussion out on the terrace. When they began talking, it was late sunset and the sky was an orangey bronze. Through long pauses there were the occasional cries of birds, settling in for twilight. _

_Of course Amanda made many concessions; Sarek was a negotiator __**par excellence**__, and made cogent arguments as to why they needed to stay on Vulcan, not the least of which was Spock's education. He would simply not get its equal on Earth._

_If Amanda needed to de-pressurize before she "decompensated," she could take Spock to Earth to visit his grandparents and Terran cultural attractions, as often as twice a year, but she could not desert Sarek without destroying him. He looked at her, determination and love radiating from his black eyes. "I cannot lose you, __**Ashayam, **__not as long as I have breath in my body."_

_The sky above was deepening from blue to purple and the stars began appearing. Sarek extended his fingers to his wife, who muttered, "Oh, don't be so reserved, Sarek," and embraced him fully. She heard his thoughts as clearly as if he'd spoken: __**I cannot live without you, k'diwa.**_

_She apologized for saying she would leave; of course she had spoken in anger. He knew that. He suggested she begin working with the Universal Translator project again. She accepted that idea, and, kissing him on the lips as was her Human wont, suggested, with an undertone of sarcasm, that Sarek needed to continue diplomatic relations with the parents of the nasty children. He suggested perhaps more intimate diplomatic marital negotiations were in order this evening._

_By the time they returned to Spock's room, the boy had curled up in his bed and was breathing gently, not quite snoring._

_The next day after school, Spock got home to hear his parents call him from out on the terrace. Sarek introduced him to an old, domesticated __**sehlat**__, his own childhood pet, reclaimed from an elderly cousin who had been caring for him during the time Sarek was traveling so much on diplomatic duty and returned to Vulcan to start his family. As Spock greeted the large, tan-furred creature, Sarek joined Amanda, across the terrace._

"_I'Chiya will serve Spock as he served me. Spock will learn responsibility by caring for him, and I'Chiya will affirm Spock's positive emotions and assuage his hurt feelings, as he did for me when I was a boy." He raised his voice a little. "He likes his ears scratched, Spock."_

_Across the terrace, the large, bear-like __**sehlat**__ leaned his head gently into Spock's body, fangs pointing outward and away, grunting in contentment as the boy scratched the base of one ear. Amanda smiled up at Sarek and said, "Have I told you lately how much I love you, dearest?"_

_------------------_

Amanda was always in favor of reporting the boys who bothered Spock; Sarek counseled that Spock was necessarily learning tolerance and restraint. When Spock, eleven years old, finally attacked the ringleader, Stonn, for calling his father a "traitor" and his mother a "whore," Amanda thought Spock ought not to be punished. Certainly, during that month, he had had to stay after school for hours every day to perform boring computer maintenance tasks, but no further punishment took place at home.

_-------------------_


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Spock recalled a brief posting to Earth; the family had stayed there for six months while Sarek negotiated for several new planets to join the Federation.

Amanda had introduced to Spock to a great variety of Earth culture: African dances and museums; wildlife parks with huge elephants, and lions and creatures similar to _Le Matya, _but spotted or striped and round-eared [except for the Caracal, and later, the Lynx]; swift-footed gazelles and colorful birds … the deer and bears and wolves of the American continent, the lynx and cougar and panthers; the terrifyingly swift alligators … the beautiful national parks and seashores of the US of America.

The family dogs and cats at _Grandmere_ Vernet and Grandfather Grayson's house … the coffeehouses in Portland, where _Grandmere_ Vernet loved to take Spock. They would sit and read, Spock with a scone and a juice drink and _Grandmere_ with a croissant and one of her endless cups of dark, dark coffee [so _that _was where Amanda had got the habit].

To the great amusement and chagrin of his mother, who had forgotten to explain to _her_ mother about Vulcans and chocolate, Spock had had one drunken spree thanks to his _grandmere_: "A simple hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant! I don't understand it!" The boy had stumbled home on her arm, drawing stares at his loud, hilarious, slurred, disjointed yet erudite conversation, and arriving home, had broken the entryway coat tree by trying to dance with it -- _Grandmere_ knew better after that.

At their home, Spock enjoyed reading or sketching while sitting at the stained glass window seat with the cats, such quiet, relaxed and restful creatures. He also delighted in slipping them finger dabs of garlicky mashed potatoes with butter from the dinner table, shreds of Romaine lettuce, or the occasional _haricot vert._ Two kittens later returned to Vulcan with them and were named Chopin -- the grey, light-footed one, and Liszt -- the black, thunder-footed one, for their treatment of Amanda's piano.

The concerts! Jazz in New Orleans, Amsterdam and Moscow; Classical in Paris, Salzburg, Prague, Beijing, Kyoto, and so many more magnificent concert halls where the Ambassador's family heard magnificent music. Japanese _Kabuki _and _Noh_ drama … the refined musical presentations of the ancient _geisha … _Chinese opera … Balinese hammered _Gamelan … _All held fascination for the family.

The beaches on Earth … the Northwest Pacific Coast of the United States of America, near where the Graysons lived was a fascinating place to discover sea life in the tidepools, but far too cold for young Spock to stay out for long without wintry layers of clothing [meanwhile Sarek and Amanda were taking a brief holiday by themselves in Bali] … the Southeast, where Amanda and her parents had rented a condominium for a few weeks and eight-year-old Spock had nearly drowned in the surf, drawn there by curiosity and withdrawn safely by his swift-acting mother … he remembered the taste of "hush puppies," macaroni and cheese, collard greens and buttered corn on the cob ….

Back on Vulcan, the kittens first thundered and bounced through the house, then developed their graceful trots and long leaps and lanky strides, and Spock grew older, became a highly accomplished student, and spent hours reading books or PADDs or calculating advanced scientific problems on the terrace, cats snuggled against him, _sehlat_ at one side, hearing the constant, soothing click of Amanda's knitting needles from the other end of the terrace, as she lovingly glanced at him.

_-------------------_

When Spock had adopted Vulcan ways as his own entirely, Amanda had at first felt shut out and eventually learned to read her son's eyes with the same skill as she read Sarek's. She took pride in her very Vulcan son, seeing her Humanity in his eyes but in very few of his gestures [excepting his "hand and wrist hugs," as she thought of them, and she got _those_ only when she put her hands on his shoulders or fussed with a collar or smoothed his hair -- but she treasured that contact with Spock].

He learned more of Sarek's feelings about his declining the appointment to the Science Academy. Disappointment, but a sneaking sense of pride for his individualism and stubbornness, qualities Sarek had learned, through Amanda, to treasure. He learned that Sarek felt so conflicted about maintaining appearances and remaining Vulcan Ambassador that he dared not be friendly with his own son -- the Science Academy held a great deal of political sway on Vulcan, and had communicated to him their displeasure with Spock. And after every communication between Spock and his mother, Amanda had shared what she felt she could with her husband.

Who was grateful.


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Spock still felt the weight of grief for the six billion -- how could any Vulcan not -- but was much relieved to feel his mother's presence in his mind, if only in memory.

That night, Nyota entered Spock's quarters, looking dispirited and tired, and Spock handed her a cup of the hot chocolate she loved. He watched her as she took off her boots, and changed out of her uniform into a flowing dark-patterned robe, and sat at the dressing table to let her hair down.

He stood behind her then to comb, then brush it out, as he recalled his father had done for his mother. It was a ritual he and Nyota both enjoyed. He had not done it for her in a while. He would start at the ends of her hair, and work his way up to her scalp. He was very gentle, patiently working through the rare knot from the ends up. Sometimes he would smooth a special nourishing product through the roots of her hair with his fingertips, then comb it through. [As with everything she applied to her body, it had a wonderful rose scent.] Before he put some in his hands to begin, she took one hand and kissed it, holding it alongside her face. Her dark, up-tilted eyes were dewy with tears, but when he raised his eyebrows, about to ask her a question, she shook her head, once. _Later. _"Would you braid my hair after you condition it?"

Whatever style she wanted, he could do: braid it, or twist it up; he had learned from watching his mother and helping her [when Sarek was not available] to get ready for Vulcan ceremonies that involved elaborate women's hairstyles: braids on wires, shaped into arcs or rectangles, arching over the top of a big pouf of hair [T'Pau's favored style]. He could never see the logic in these hairstyles, but tradition, even Vulcan tradition, was not necessarily logical.

Nyota's long hair, sometimes straight, sometimes curly, belied her completely serious and mature attitude toward excelling in her studies at the Academy, and had been one of the feminine attractions that had drawn him to her, along with her graceful, confident stride and movements.

He nodded. A braid was simple; he would weave what his mother and Nyota called a French braid, which would stay neat overnight and on the job tomorrow and yield beautiful waves tomorrow night when Nyota let it down. He treated, then braided her hair, firmly, but not too tightly, bent over, and kissed the top of her forehead as she leaned back into his torso.

Tears gone, she sat up, finished her chocolate gratefully and examined him in the mirror. "You look better, Spock … rested."

"I am somewhat better. Sarek and I meditated together this afternoon. But I note that you seem quite tired and sad, _Ashayam_. Do you wish to discuss it?"

"I've been talking with Doctor Pradesh about Vulcan … and Starfleet … all the losses. And how I feel." She met his eyes in the mirror. "I keep thinking about Gaila. Wondering if anyone made it out … away from Nero. If anybody managed to launch shuttles, as they did in the _Kelvin_ incident."

"It is quite possible. Anyone in the Academy's Command Training, and many more officers, would recognize _Narada_ from the recordings of _Kelvin's_ transmissions to Starfleet. The _Kelvin_ transmissions were a standard part of your own command, emergency, and evacuation training. Although our long-range scanners have so far failed to find surviv--"

"I know. And my mind keeps returning to that _horror_. I can't seem to stop seeing it."

"My mind has done much the same thing. But meditation is helping me to curb the hold of the images upon my mind."

"Do you think you could help me … to meditate? I haven't been able to do it by myself lately."

"Come, sit with me now," Spock said softly. "We will do a simple breathing meditation as we have done before."

"I might fall asleep, Spock."

"That is perfectly acceptable. Let us try." He gave her his hand and she rose from her chair. They went to the meditation alcove, lined with burgundy Vulcan silks and gold-edged bronze cushions, and Spock lit the candles and the incense at the brazier. They settled themselves opposite one another and folded their hands each at chest level, forefingers and middle fingers steepled, and closed their eyes.

Slowly they attuned their breathing, and sat silently for twenty minutes or so, until Spock said, "Peace be unto all sentients."

"Peace be unto all," Nyota said. They stood up and she extinguished the flames and the incense, and they bowed to one another. "I feel a little better," she told him.

That night, they did not make love, but for the first time since Nero, or _Then_ as Nyota thought of it, they spooned closely together in sleep, and Spock had no nightmares. Instead there were some pleasant dreams of his childhood, singing and gardening with his mother. And Nyota's sleeping mind felt comfortable enough to go home again to Kenya, and her family, and her memories of Mombasa. These dreams alternated between the sleeping lovers, who held hands off and on all night.

Spock adjusted the folds of his meditation robe. "Father … how can we continue to function … live as a culture, and a race … after Nero's destruction of our planet?"

"I have pondered this as well. The only answer that occurs to me is to channel my … energies … into the effort of founding a new colony for those who survive. To begin again, and to adhere to the principles of Surak as well as we can. And to remember all those on Vulcan who were a part of our lives. Perhaps for you, the answer is to honor your mother and continue your life in Starfleet."

They sat silently, then Sarek lit the candles, and they meditated.

When they had finished, Spock extinguished the candles and turned to Sarek. "May I ask you to do something for me, Father?"

Sarek nodded.

"Would you bond me formally with Nyota Uhura?"

"I thought you had already …"

"We have only informally done so, Father. We do not have a permanent bond as yet. We wanted our parents … present for the ceremony." Spock looked down. "I know Nyota wants her parents present and I desire that you bond us formally."

Sarek did something he had not done for two decades. He put one hand on Spock's shoulder and leaned in so his forehead touched that of his son. "I would be honored to do so."


	15. Chapter 15

15.

"I meditated with my father again today. I will share my insights with you later. But first, I would like to ask you something, Nyota."

"What is it, _Mpenzi_?"

Spock took her hand, indicating that she should stand, and he embraced her, kissing her mouth tenderly, as was his way, leaning in toward her after the kiss, absorbing the feeling of their unity and strength.

Then he stood back, and looking very tall in his dark Vulcan robe and leggings, assumed his formal posture, and asked, "Will you be my bond-mate?"

"Of course, my sweetheart, but --"

"My father has agreed to formally bond us."

"Oh, Spock," she cried out with delight, and then made a very high-pitched squealing sound he recognized as one of utter joy, and she jumped, quite ignoring his upraised hand and two outstretched fingers. She wrapped her legs around him, hugging him tightly, and he supported her back with one hand. And suddenly he felt free to celebrate with her in a way that brought them both joy.

Gently, he slipped her robe from her shoulders, kissing her face and throat and those delicate clavicles he treasured. She undid his meditation robe and slid it off his square shoulders. She drew it off one arm at a time and Spock, quirking his lips, altered his hold on her, left arm, right arm, and she giggled, and draped his robe over a chair. She kissed and tongued her way down his torso and dismounted, removing his trousers as he toed off his slippers. She stood and let her robe slip the rest of the way down to the floor, and Spock picked it up and tossed it onto the chair, over his robe. She slipped her fingertips appreciatively over his soft skin, his muscled but slender arms, up his beautiful strong shoulders, to his face, and he sensed her communicating through their bond, _"My handsome darling, __**mpenzi**__ … I don't know how I could love you more."_

He kissed her mouth, and laid gentle kisses along her jaw line, and eyelids, and cheekbones. His hands gripped her arms and he loosened his grasp so as not to bruise her. He stroked his hands up and down, and holding her hands, made the Vulcan sign, and her hands flattened against his palms and fingers in the identical position. Their minds were close together, thoughts bridging their contact.

"_Soon we will know this closeness all the time, __**K'diwa.**__"_

"_Oh, Spock, to always touch you in mind …"_

"…_and I, you …"_

She nestled her head on his shoulder as he encircled her slender waist in his hot arms, breathing in rhythm, and then she moved her head so she could look into his dark eyes that said so much. At last, at _last_, she beheld a tiny spark of joy.

They delighted in each other that night, exchanging shallow kisses that deepened into breathless ones, Nyota sniffing and kissing his throat and chest delicately, licking and teething at his nipples, eliciting purrs from deep in the back of his throat, and Spock scenting her neck and nipping the hair at her nape. He kissed his way 'round to her front, kneading and licking and kissing her breasts until they were wet from his mouth and her nipples stood proud; she slickly kissed his muscled stomach, and exhaled gently on the moist skin, making him almost wriggle with delight. And, oh, she loved to nip his rounded buttocks and long thighs; it made him wild, the purring leaving the back of his throat to express loudly from his open mouth.

They reveled together in the smoothing of skin on skin, the hot against the warm, the wonderful liquid noises as he first nosed and kissed her sex and delicately fingered her woman's center, and as her hands and mouth gave delicious attention to his hardening _lok_. And she turned to engage him face to face, her center opening to him, thrilling them as his thick length slowly penetrated her small canal, her moistness surrounding his satiny, dry heat. Spock took his time, arching his hips up to meet hers, reaching his face up to breathe of her breaths and sighs, gently stroking his nose and lips over the lovely features of her face, and meeting her lips in delicious, soft, penetrating kisses.

Joined, they moved together, slowly and extensively at first, the way Nyota liked it, and soon, her pelvic movements and groans would urge him into their hip-bucking, noisy, emphatic rhythm, in perfect harmony but outside of time … Spock felt Nyota's inner walls tighten rhythmically around him as she climaxed, crying his name on an uprising, diminishing soprano note; he released, pulsing hotly, his buttocks tightening as he grunted softly. They descended, laying quietly together, stroking each other's hair. They began again, and climbed the heights again … his chest hair, dry and curling, spiking against her perspiring breasts, giving her skin a bit of not unpleasant irritation, his purrs and eventual growls of pleasure, her joyful sighs and cries, and their spirits twining together in release and a spiritual joining.


	16. Chapter 16

16.

Over two days, Spock had several meetings with Kirk. He had not looked forward to them, but was tolerating Kirk's presence surprisingly well. They hashed through everything that had happened, every event but Kirk's mysterious return from Delta Vega. Kirk attributed it to discovering Montgomery Scott at the Starfleet outpost, "the guy who discovered the theory of Trans-Warp beaming." And that was all he would say about it.

"You are withholding something from me, Mister Kirk," Spock said.

"I'm sorry, Commander. I have to do it," Kirk said, "and I'll continue to do it before the Starfleet Command Board as well."

"It is possible they will accept your explanation, but they will debrief Lieutenant Commander Scott as well."

Kirk nodded, puffing out his lips a bit. "Of course. He's equal to the challenge."

Spock knew Scott was capable of spouting so many technical terms at once only a Vulcan could follow his thinking. But Scott was sticking to his story, too: Spock had already spoken with him.

"Very well. I will write the report, if you wish."

Kirk looked very happy at this. "Sure, Spock, please do. We'll be co-signing it, after all, and I know you're much more thorough --"

Spock nodded patiently. Kirk exploded out of his chair and made it to the door before he remembered something and turned with a very different expression on his mobile face.

"Spock -- Starfleet has asked if you and Ambassador Sarek wish to have a memorial ceremony for Lady Amanda."

Spock closed his eyes for a moment. "I will ask him. I am … undecided on the matter."

Sarek affirmed the idea of a memorial service. Amanda's former colleagues, friends and family, and his own past and present colleagues on Earth would be sensitive to his loss and would want, for their part, to remember her. Spock thought the same about his colleagues on _Enterprise._ They would want to pay their respects to the mother their First Officer had tried to save, the mother they knew he loved.

Kirk ordered Uhura to announce ship-wide that anyone with relatives on Earth be allowed subspace radio communication time in the week before they got there.

"Thanks for getting me through to my mom," Kirk said to her a couple of days later. "We had a good talk. She was in the Laurentian system on _Exeter,_ thank God."

"That is fortunate," Uhura answered him diplomatically. Her comm home was scheduled for this afternoon, and she was nervous. She couldn't resist asking Kirk, "What did she think of your 'solution' to the _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario?"

Kirk's eyes twinkled at her and he grinned. "We, ahh … talked about my solution to the _Narada_ scenario. I never heard her swear when she gave me praise before, but today she did." Kirk paused by her communication station, resting a hip on the edge of the nearby instrument panels. "You understand, I was raised hearing the story of the day of my birth, and how Dad saved Mom and me … so she _really_ hated Nero. 'Cos she really loved my dad."

Uhura's eyes teared up. "I don't think I ever … realized …" she started to say more, but Kirk's hand gently flitted to her shoulder.

"It's okay," he said in an undertone.

Later that day, Uhura found a private place to comm home. It was around 0700 Kenyan time, so the family should be at home, not yet departed for work.

The first face she saw was her _Masa's_, wreathed in a broad smile. "My precious Nyota! I am overjoyed to hear from you! Let me call your _Abu_!" Her stepfather came in, still in his sleeping garment, and greeted her, all drowsiness fled, raising his coffee mug in a salute. "Darling girl, I am glad to see you are all right! I wish I could reach through this thing and give you a hug right now!"

"Me too!" chimed in her nine-year-old half-sister. "En, En, En, you're okay!" She jumped up and down, earrings and long braid bobbing crazily.

For a few moments Nyota Uhura, expert in Xenolinguistics and communications, could only sit silently and watch them, tears of joy trickling from her eyes. "Masa, Abu, 'Penda," she finally said, tasting their names in her mouth, wiping her cheeks.

Atapenda was looking behind her conspiratorially.

"Surprise!" she hollered, and a green girl with curly red hair and blue eyes popped out from behind everyone.

"_Gaila!_" Uhura squeaked.

"Yoo-hoo!" said her Academy roommate. "It's so good to be here ... I'm glad you're safe, Yoo-hoo. Some of us managed to escape. I told my Section Head about the Romulan transmissions you intercepted that night? And she told the captain, and _she_ had studied Captain Pike's _Kelvin _thesis, plus she had a really bad intuition about what we were headed for … we got about six shuttles off before the ship …" her expressive blue eyes teared up.

"Oh, my God, I'm glad you got away, sweetie," Nyota said. She had imagined a universe without Gaila in it, and it was not as joyful a place. "It was so … awful …"

They talked awhile about the number of survivors, both of them wiping tears away, and Uhura spoke again with her family. "I have important news -- I'm getting married."

"That Vulcan boy?" Masa said.

"He's not a boy--"

"I know, En; I know. How is he doing, after …."

"He's coping as best he can. His father is here onboard and they are talking about it, I think. He seems better than … right after …."

Gaila came back on after Nyota had spoken with her parents. 'Penda was beside her. "You're getting married? To Spock?"

Uhura nodded, warmly smiling, and there was more jumping up and down -- 'Penda _and_ Gaila, this time.


	17. Chapter 17

17.

"I don't care how we do it, Doc," Pike snapped. "All I know is, I'm leaving this ship in my goddamned uniform, so see to it that I can dress myself or _be _dressed, do you copy?"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," McCoy said, not without a trace of sarcasm, and muttered, "Incredible!" on his way out of Sickbay to the captain's quarters for the requested clothing.

"What was that last, Doc?!" Jesus, Pike was irascible today. _Better up his dose of painkiller._

McCoy put a twinkle in his hazel eyes, went to stand at the doorway where Pike lay on a biobed, and shook his head with a smile. "I said, you're just _incredible,_ sir."

"You bet your sweet ass I am," Pike said. "Now go get my uniform. Or send for it."

Kirk talked to the Security Detail. "When we get to Space Dock and we're about to send the first shuttle down, you'll ring the bell for Captain Pike as "_Enterprise_ departing," got it? I'm the Acting Captain and Spock's the First Officer, but Captain Pike is the commander of this vessel."

Lieutenant Commander Giotto, a gray-haired veteran, nodded. "I think you have that exactly right, and it's quite fitting, Mister Kirk."

"Thanks," Kirk said. He turned to another member of the detail, that tall, slab-sided, balding fellow with the mustache and goatee. "Say, what's your real name again?"

"Ensign Holly, sir."

Kirk clapped him on the shoulder, smiling broadly. "Man, that's almost as cute as 'Cupcake.' But I'll try to remember."

On the Bridge, Ensign Chekov said, "Approaching Spess-dock, sair."

"Synchronize orbit," Kirk ordered Helm.

After a few moments, Sulu said, "Reaching synchronized orbit…. Synchronization."

"Approach docking station."

"Approaching docking station, aye," said Sulu. At tiny intervals, Sulu fired this thruster and that, getting _Enterprise_ into exactly the right position so she could hook up at the berth. At last he said, "At berthing station."

"Grapples on."

"Grapples on, aye."

"Good work, Mr. Sulu. Employ inertial dampener."

"Inertial dampener on, sir."

"Power down Impulse drive."

"Impulse drive off, sir."

Kirk stretched in his chair, arms over his head, and looked around the Bridge. He hoped he'd see it again. He hoped Starfleet Command would understand everything that had gone wrong, but more important, everything that had gone _right._

Captain Pike, in a wheelchair, returned Lieutenant Kirk's and Doctor McCoy's salutes at the door to the Shuttle Bay, and was escorted across to shuttle _Columbus _by Spock. _Ting-ting!_ the ship's bell rang, and an announcement went over the shipwide intercom: "_Enterprise_ departing."

Spock guided the chair between the two ranks of Security, who stood at attention, with Lieutenant Commander Giotto rendering the salute, up the shuttle's ramp, and helped Captain Pike secure himself in the shuttlecraft. The first contingent of _Enterprise_ crew was lining up to board.

Pike said, "My portion of that report was regrettably short, Spock, but the whole thing looked fine to me. I signed off my section." He withdrew a PADD from a pocket in the wheelchair and handed it to Spock. "Remember to consider that 'team' idea I discussed with you in Sickbay. After all, if he's the Commanding Officer, Uhura reports directly to _him_, so there's no … impropriety for you. Think about it." Then, though they were inside a shuttle, Pike saluted Spock, who, startled, returned the salute. "See you dirtside, Spock. And thanks for helping save my ass and my home planet. You're the finest First Officer I ever worked with."

"Thank you, sir." Spock dropped his salute, stood briefly at strict, straight attention, did a perfect about-face, and left the shuttle.

_God, I love that Vulcan precision,_ thought Pike.

Sarek and Spock decided the memorial service for Amanda should be musical in nature. She had loved music; it was expressive to all races; her best-loved music would express her personality, and allow those Vulcans present to meditate. Spock decided that he would play the piano, Chopin's _Berceuse, _which Amanda had played for him as a lullaby when he was little, and Sarek would play Amanda's favorite Vulcan song on his lyrette. Father and son would play their lyrettes together in a Bach piece often played on guitar, another favorite of Amanda's. The Academy Choir was going to sing _In Paradisum,_ a celestial-sounding choralefrom Morton Lauridsen's _Lux Aeterna, "_Light Eternal_."_ Words would be said, but not many; the director of the Universal Translator project, Jeannette Lorrah, wanted to honor her colleague, and Sarek and Spock would each say a few words, followed by Amanda's parents.

"Among my people it is not traditional to speak of the personal. I will only say that my wife taught me a great deal about what is noble and good in Humankind," Sarek said. "As an Ambassador to Earth I find this knowledge is of great value. As a husband and father, this knowledge has been … a pearl without price."

"Of all the knowledge my mother gave me," Spock said a few moments later, "I believe her way of bridging culture gaps to be among the most precious. She lived among Vulcans for over 25 years, and never surrendered her Humanity. Likewise, I aspire to reveal the best of Vulcanity to my Human shipmates, many of whom have honored me with their trust." His glance went first to Nyota, then to Admiral Pike, then, briefly, to Jim Kirk and certain of his Academy colleagues. "My mother was thrilled when I went to Starfleet Academy. I shall continue to honor her through my service, either to Starfleet or to the Vulcan colony." He stepped down from the podium and went to stand with the senior officers and Bridge crew of the _Enterprise_.

Amanda's Memorial was concluding. _Grandmere_ Vernet said a few words about her daughter's determined, shining spirit and her adventurousness, which had led her to live on an alien world and have a family there. Professor Vernet then turned to Professor Grayson, Spock's Human grandfather, who took her hand in his and said, "Very simply, I am here to celebrate the love my daughter gave throughout her life. The love that came through in her every action, word and glance. I will miss her." Her parents briefly hugged.

The _Enterprise _officers stood to attention as the ceremony ended. Spock noticed Ensign Chekov, who was standing perfectly straight, perfectly still, tears streaming down his young face. As soon as the service was over, Spock sidled over to him, leaned in close and whispered: "You did the best you could. The forces exerted by Vulcan's implosion from the Red Matter were beyond your control. Please know my mother's death was not your fault."

"Thenk you, sair," Chekov managed. "I em so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Ensign."

Lieutenant Sulu and Lieutenant Commander Scott joined Chekov and conversed with him in low tones, and Spock overheard something about "sober in time for Kirk's promotion ceremony … no, maybe we should wait til just after … let's go for a beer … Och, that stuff's _piss,_ I'll be getting a real drink, lad …"

"Commander Spock," said the soon-to-be Captain Kirk. "Your mother was a very special woman, from all I have heard. I am very sorry she is no longer with us … and sorry for your loss."

He reached out a hand, and Spock shielded himself, and shook it. Kirk's thoughts were warm and full of high regard for his Vulcan First Officer. Kirk's eyes fastened onto Spock's Meritorious Service Medal so recently awarded by Captain … Admiral Pike. "By the way, I noticed you didn't have an honors ceremony. Was that by choice?"

Spock nodded.

Kirk gripped his hand tightly, then let it go. "Your medal is well-deserved, sir. I know we don't really understand each other very well, but I sure hope we can try. I'd be honored if you'd serve aboard _Enterprise_ with me."

"I will consider it, Lieutenant Kirk," Spock said.

Kirk beamed.

Uhura came up behind Spock then, and murmured, "We have the rest of the day before Kirk's promotion ceremony and the Starfleet Memorial Service. Would you like to get something to eat?"

Spock squeezed her hand surreptitiously. _Yes. Let us be alone, away from all this. It is getting to be oppressive._

Sarek was with Professors Vernet and Grayson, Amanda's parents. Before Spock and Uhura went to eat, they stopped to say good-bye. Spock's grandparents were coming to Kenya in a few days for the bonding ceremony and Sarek was going to spend a little time on Earth before joining the Vulcan colonization project. Just long enough to visit with Amanda's relatives, then meet Uhura's family in Kenya, and bond Spock with Nyota.

18.

Uhura and Spock went into the city to get some Peet's coffee and crusty thick soup-bowls made with the locally famous Sourdough bread, hollowed out and filled with hot vegetarian soup for Spock, creamy fish chowder for Nyota. They found seats by a fountain in a plaza overlooking the waterfront and ate, and sipped their coffee: mochas for both of them. Sipping her "usual," Uhura smiled at Spock's beverage choice. Apparently some lovemaking was in her very near future, like in the three hours between now and Kirk's promotion ceremony.

After a while Spock finished spooning up his soup and dipped a piece of the bread in the bit that was left, said, "We need to discuss our plans."

"I thought we might," Nyota said, looking into his eyes, quoting, " '…Starfleet or the Vulcan Colony'?"

She was not angry, just asking, Spock was sure. "My intention is to bond with you, render service to the colony for a limited period of time, and return to you on the _Enterprise._"

"Is Starfleet okay with this idea?" She chewed on her own chewy sourdough crust.

"Starfleet is eager to accommodate Vul … the colonists in any way possible."

"Would you be gone for weeks, months, a year, what?"

"I do not know. I expect that I could join them for a short time -- I would hope, less than ten weeks, contribute to certain projects, and if requested, contribute … biologically as well."

"Biologically …?" Light quickly dawned, and she said, "How would that work, exactly?"

Spock reached across the table for her hand. "Remotely, in the case of anyone but you, my Nyota. Quite remotely and anonymously."

She raised his hand to her soft lips and kissed it tenderly. "That, I can deal with. I hope you don't have to be gone for long, but I'll support you in any decision you make." Her eyes met his. "I love you."

The side of his mouth quirked up, and his eyes sparked. "My _K'diwa_."

"Let's finish our lunch and get a room, _Mpenzi._"

Spock did something he had never done in public, in uniform, before. He kissed her. Vulcan-style, but still.

Later, Spock had a strange encounter in the shuttle hangar. "Father …?"

The figure turned. He was of a height with Sarek, but also with Spock, and his face was quite … startling to see. "I am not our father," he said ….

"Spock, give yourself a break. Put aside logic and do what _feels_ right," the elder Spock said to him, near the end of their odd conversation.

He was in a unique position, the elder Vulcan said. He could be "in two places at once." There was no need to sacrifice his life to do the logical thing and re-populate the Vulcan race. Spock the elder, who would help with a new Vulcan colony, urged the younger Spock to remain in Starfleet.

To explore … and be with Nyota ….

The entire Academy -- instructors, Board members, and students, along with all members of Starfleet who could be spared that evening for the memorial for Fleet members who had died at what was now termed "The Battle of Vulcan" -- assembled on the grounds of Starfleet Academy. A giant United Federation of Planets banner had been hauled up by anti-grav units behind the stage, and Starfleet flags flew on tall posts at the end of every other row of chairs.

The weather was kind that evening, a warm seventy degrees [Spock, as usual, was clad in silk long johns under his uniform for the San Francisco weather. "Long johns" was his mother's term for long underwear, he recalled.] Up near the stage, Spock could see Admiral Pike greeting the families of those who had died, talking and nodding, sometimes giving hugs, sometimes wiping a tear away himself.

Gaila Mah'naz, Uhura's Academy roommate, sat to Spock's left, and Nyota's family had also traveled here for the ceremony. They sat to his right; Atapenda, Nyota's little sister, was closest and kept turning her face up and smiling at Spock, who would nod at her in return, or raise an eyebrow, prompting another smile. As the evening cooled she nestled closer to his right side.

Everyone stood and all Fleet members sang the Starfleet hymn, not the upbeat _Ex Astris, Scientia_, but the one sung at funerals and memorials and solemn rites throughout the Federation, wherever Starfleet served, "Eternal Spirit."

Eternal Spirit, in each race,

Guide Starfleet as we travel space,

And keep us safe, that we may guard,

Explore, and chart the outer stars.

Grant us from Spirit deep within,

The knowledge that we all are kin.

Spock knew it was based on a very old Naval hymn called "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," and the lyrics had been changed to be inclusive of more belief systems. Some opined that the hymn had been rendered nearly meaningless, but Spock thought the lyrics' emphasis on spiritual reflection and kinship with other races central to the mythos of Starfleet and the Federation, so they struck him as fitting, if not the most artful.

Admiral Pike, from his wheelchair, spoke of the sight that had greeted _Enterprise_ as she came out of warp.

"A horrible ship, one I recognized from my studies of the _Kelvin _incident, had attacked our shipmates on six other vessels. Most had died before they knew what was happening; some died valiantly, allowing others to escape with their lives." [Here Gaila sobbed, once.] "Let us be thankful for each life spared, and let us be grateful for each life given in service to protect our Federation.

"I myself am extremely grateful for the teamwork of the _Enterprise_ crew and the two gentlemen who beamed over to that Romulan monstrosity, _Narada,_ to disable it and save my life. Oh, and by the way, save the Earth." He paused, smiling, and the audience broke into applause and cheers.

"Admiral Barnett tells me that in accordance with my recommendation, all members of the _Enterprise_ crew who were attending Starfleet Academy are hereby promoted to active service with honorary Academy degrees and have had a special citation placed into their service records. I personally want to thank each one of them today. They acted with great honor and in the highest traditions of the service."

A loud voice, belonging to the newly-promoted captain, James T. Kirk, shouted, "Three cheers for Admiral Pike!"

And, in old naval tradition, a chorus of "Hip-hip-hurrah!" sounded thrice over the grounds. Then a respectful silence descended again.

The President of the Federation then ascended the podium to speak a brief few words, of gratitude, of sacrifice, of the loss of Vulcan, of Federation security, upheld by these brave women and men, and the finest traditions of the Starfleet.

Admiral Barnett, Superintendent of Starfleet Academy, came up to introduce the musical selections to be played by the Academy's musical groups.

The Academy Orchestra played "In Memoriam," a piece specially commissioned for this ceremony and co-written by the composers T'Solk, a Vulcan, and Theda Barnett, who happened to be the Superintendent's great-aunt. It had interesting melds of modernism with ancient African rhythms, alternating with Vulcan sobriety, and was quite beautiful and fitting.

Spock, not taking direct part in any of the ceremony, could observe Nyota's friend, and Gaila, normally ebullient, was quite subdued, listening to the orchestral music, wiping away an occasional tear. Next, the Academy Chorus sang a 20th century Eric Whittaker selection, and Gaila silently wept. Her handkerchief got wet, and Spock gave her his, briefly resting his hand on hers.

The lyrics were originally a poem by e. e. cummings, "i thank You God for this most amazing."

I thank You God for most this amazingday : for the leaping greenly spirits of treesand a blue true dream of sky; and for everythingwhich is natural which is infinite which is yes(i who have died am alive again today,and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birthday of life and of love and wings: and of the gaygreat happening illimitably earth)how should tasting touching hearing seeingbreathing any--lifted from the noof all nothing--human merely beingdoubt unimaginable You?(now the ears of my ears awake andnow the eyes of my eyes are opened)

There were several verses sung by the choir, interspersed with chorales, over which were soprano solos. Uhura sang, her lovely voice soaring over the chorus, rising up, up.

Like Spock's soul …

… united with Nyota's, rising to the stars.

~ ~ ~ FIN ~ ~ ~


	18. Chapter 18

A Passionate Woman by SpockLikesCats: NC-17

"So -- where shall we get a room?" Uhura asked, putting her hand in Spock's.

"I already have one available," he replied mysteriously, looking down at her with a spark in his eyes.

She frowned. "But we're heading back to the Academy," she protested.

"Precisely," Spock answered. As they passed through the Presidio Gate, they parted hands. Spock was wearing his charcoal grey instructor's dress uniform and Uhura, her red three-piece uniform. Today she wore black tights in deference to the morning fog, beginning now to burn off.

They walked to the Xenolinguistics Building, shoulder to shoulder, as they had many times in the past, not touching, but able to sense each other's warmth.

The building was quiet. Very few instructors were within; all the students were out setting up the grounds, readying programs, or otherwise preparing for the vast memorial service scheduled for that evening under the supervision of other Academy instructors.

Spock walked briskly to the turbo lift and Uhura followed him in.

"Sixth floor," he commanded. The lift got underway and he slammed his hand against the "Stop Lift" button, looking over at Uhura, his nostrils flaring, an almost feral look on his face. Very slightly, he tipped his head back, inhaling deeply, smelling her scents of rose and skin and hair … and another scent, as she began reacting to the sexual vibration in the air. He purred way in the back of his throat. Rounding on her, he crossed the lift in one step and backed her against the wall. Her breathing was rapid; he closed in face to face and sniffed her hair, holding the back of her neck with one hand, tilting her chin up with the other and kissing her, lightly at first, and at her frenzied murmuring, more deeply.

He broke it off and whispered in her ear, his hot breath exciting her even more, "When we arrive at my office we are to fulfill whatever fantasy you desire, my Nyota."

"Ohh," she said on a heavy exhalation, trying to keep her knees from buckling.

Spock pressed the "Resume" button and they arrived at the Sixth floor in short order. The office suite that Spock and several instructors shared was empty and he and Uhura headed straight into his office.

There were a few boxes awaiting transport; most of the things there would remain for the next instructor -- general Xenolinguistics texts, SFA Code of Conduct, SFA Educational Goals and Guidelines, SFA Grading Standards (which Spock had refined while here), SFA Uniform Standards and more. The only reminders not yet boxed up of Spock's days here with Nyota were her Academy coffee cup and Spock's large artisanal ceramic teacup, along with his stash of Vulcan _f'canth_ tea, which he drank for its calming properties. Uhura briefly wondered if he would ever be able to find it among the planets which now constituted the Federation.

Spock sat behind his desk and gestured her to a chair. "Well, Cadet Lieutenant Uhura, you have come here for some purpose," he said in his patient instructor voice. "Would you care to enlighten me as to what it is?" He looked at her, raising that eyebrow, and it was all she could do not to crack up.

She looked down to hide her smile. When Spock said he was going to play a game, he played.

"Simply this, Commander," she said. And she stood up and strutted to the corner of his desk, hopped up, and slid so she was right in front of him, facing him, her feet in her boots on either arm of his chair.

"Computer, door lock, soundproof, and shade window," Spock said. Then, in the spirit of play, he looked up at Uhura with his old innocence, when he did not know she felt the same attraction he did. "May I know the purpose of this pose you have assumed, Ms. Uhura?"

"Simply this, Mr. Spock," she said, and tilted up his chin with her fingertips, kissing his forehead, each eyelid, each ear, each cheek, and his top and bottom lip in turn. He exhaled in rasps. Then she unzipped her jacket and shrugged out of it, and brought his face to her sweatered bosom, and he inhaled deeply again. Something about the combination of the scent of soft wool, Nyota's skin, and the rose scent she always wore lit a fire inside him, and he began breathing hard, tipping his head back to meet her eyes.

"It seems clear that we both want--" he began.

"--the same thing," she finished, unfastening his dark tunic and helping him out of it. Underneath, he wore a black silk mock-turtleneck long-sleeved shirt. "You look so delicious in black," she purred.

His gaze was open and desirous, a wonderful combination of curiosity and sexuality.

She reached forward and began gently tweaking his nipples through the thin fabric of the silk shirt with her blunt fingernails. He reached up beneath her sweater to tease her breasts by drawing his fingers together over each one, open flowers into cones, and teasing the buds of her breasts under the lace of her bra between his fingers and thumbs. He raised his arms, removing her sweater quickly, and stretched up his torso so he could nuzzle and lick her nipples through her bra. The wetness of the material, so cool, and the contrast of his hot breath made her even more eager, and she gathered the hem of his undershirt in her fists and whipped it off him, settling it over his back so he wouldn't get too cold.

"Back up, sir," she said, and let her feet hit the floor. "Unzip my boots."

He bent over to do this, and coming up, was pleasantly inundated with the scent of excitement coming from between her legs. He lowered himself to one knee, unzipped her skirt, pulled it down, and was confronted by black tights, which he first nosed at the crotch, letting out an appreciative sound, and then tugged gently down, down, petting, kissing and stroking Nyota's lovely legs as he bared them.

"Ah-h," he said, fingering her lovely panties. "At last, I see you are wearing the Vulcan lace I purchased for you. I am most appreciative, Ms. Uhura."

"I appreciate the gift, sir. What better way than to share it with the giver?"

Spock stood and began to unfasten his trousers.

"Not so fast, Commander," Uhura said. "Don't you want to … explore a little first?" She took his left hand and slipped it into her underpants, and he curled the side of his mouth up a bit.

She was right on the edge of his desk and his fingers each found something stimulating to do for her. One slipped inside her passage, to be joined by another; his thumb circled and caressed her clitoris, and his smaller fingers first parted her cleft then teased her there. She was so wet that even her rear entrance was slick, and his smallest finger slowly penetrated her as her eyes widened and she frantically nipped his pectorals and lips. "Oh," she said, "Please, please fuck me now."

Spock shook his head, once, putting an unoccupied finger on her lips. "Language, Cadet Lieutenant," he said. "You will sit right there while I take care of the first evolution with my capable hand."

He took off her bra and wound it around her wrists. "Rest your hands upon my shoulder." He unfastened his trousers and let them slide down to his upper thighs, and took his underwear down that far too, so she could look at his _lok_, swelling erect, with a tiny pearl of moisture at its end.

"I desire you equally, but I must be patient, because I intend to bring …" he stroked, and thrust with his fingers, and that smaller finger, the one flitting around the cleft of her buttocks, and his thumb circled. Circled. Stroked. " … you …" and he circled with his thumb, and took his fingers out of her, and he brought his penis close and put it between her labia, but not into her, gently stroking her clitoris and wet lips with it, "… off, as suddenly or as gently as you are willing to … _come_," he said, and he had read her body right, because she was trembling with an orgasm even as he said it, rubbing her face into his chest, tonguing his nipples, wanting to hold his _lok_ in her hands but prevented.

His legs were moving; he was stepping out of his trousers and underwear and apparently his boots were still on -- how silly! -- but she couldn't see them and she was caught up in the moment. Spock unwound the bra from her wrists and said, "Touch me, please -- whatever you want," and she reared up to kiss him and brought him to her with her lower legs, catching him around his slender waist. She surprised him by reaching under her leg and smacking his left buttock.

"_That's_ for not doing as I asked."

"You enjoyed what I did do."

"Still. The point remains."

She wrapped her hand around his penis, so hot and smooth, pulsing with his emerald blood, a beautiful green at the tip, and she petted it, tenderly, and he thrust easily into her, as a knife goes into its sheath, but instead of a snick, there was of course a living, wet sound, and Uhura sat at the very edge of his bare desktop and stretched her hands down to his rear, digging in her nails, whispering, "Do it hard this time, really hard and fast," and his eyes narrowed in a "cat-smile" and he folded his hands gently around her hips to hold them, and warped them both right out of orbit.

* * *

"We _all_ thought that. All your female and gay male students," Nyota said to him a little later, as they lay on the floor behind his desk. "That beneath that icy exterior burned a hot Vulcan heart."

"It sounds to me as though you were considering a different part of the anatomy."

"But how right we were."

"Only in your case, my Nyota."

Her sweat had cooled; she was grateful for the office's climate controls. Spock had raised them to near-tropical heat, but dry, for him. She loved to lie nude with him, just to look at his beautiful, planar, long, muscled body: the swirls of dark hair on his chest, that she fancied looked, in tandem, like the symbol for a heart, the line of hair leading to his pubis, a trail Gaila called the "pathway to heaven;" his _lok_, now dormant, but still tubular and noticeable (Uhura hated seeing a penis that shrank back to almost nothing, and Spock had told her she would be quite disappointed with a full Vulcan in that case), his legs, that seemed to go on forever, ending in those beautiful, odd, feet. (Spock's boots had come off during the second, slower round.)

Spock's feet revealed something of his ancient Felid ancestry. The bottoms were well-cushioned at each toe pad, at the metatarsal, and at the heel, with what on a full feline one would call "paw leather" of light olive. They accounted for the "glide" in the Vulcan walk, and the Vulcan ability to jump from higher heights than Humans and remain unhurt, because they were more shock-absorbent. Their toenails were slightly different, too, coming out of the tops of the toes, but in sheaths to lend them strength. Spock kept his toenails extremely short so he would not inadvertently scratch Nyota, and Vulcan shoes and boots always had a little extra room there.

She fit so neatly, just under his arm, with room on his shoulder to lay her head, and she could listen to his breath, which usually devolved to purring when he slept peacefully. She looked up at his profile, his lean cheeks, his beautiful bone structure, the serious brow, and leaned up to kiss his lips.

"We have an hour before we need to put on our Dress uniforms for the memorial," she said, petting the soft hair on his lower arm.

"Would you like to make love again?"

She smiled at him.

They resumed stroking each other, murmuring to one another, and Spock quoted poetry to her in ancient Vulcan, and she quoted him some ancient African poetry and some Shakespeare, and they got quite romantic, lying there nude together, hot / warm; hairy and marble-white / smooth and brown; short hair mussed / long hair curtaining everywhere -- when they heard footsteps outside the door. They held absolutely still. Spock was relieved to be behind the desk; if someone were to force the lock at least their embarrassment would not be complete. Spock was shielding Uhura with his body and smiling at her with his eyes. She was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Commander Spock?" It was an unfamiliar voice, and there was a hesitant knock at the door, then the sound of something brushing on the carpet, and receding footsteps.

"Has it spoiled your mood?" Spock inquired.

"Are you kidding?" Uhura laughed. "We Humans love the thrill of near-discovery."

"I will remember that." And he moved on her, and within her, and she, around him, and they slowly began finding their way through the delight they held in one another, Spock's face above hers, his eyes so earnest, so attentive, Uhura's gaze so open and affectionate, looking up to him as he moved in her.

"Wait," she said. "Lift up a little." She gently pushed his torso, which he had been supporting with his elbows. "Don't pull out …" She raised her feet from around his waist and threaded them from under his arms so her ankles went over his shoulders. He raised his eyebrows; there was a considerably different feeling inside her now and as he began gently stroking again, he could feel the bump of her cervix against the glans of his _Lok_. She grunted a little each time, closing her eyes in complete satisfaction.

He slowed after a bit, slowed, and stopped, and she opened her eyes. "I would like to lie on my back now," he whispered.

"All right. By the way, I'm grateful that your tunic jacket is lined -- it saved me from rug burn and wool burn."

He nodded and, still erect, pulled out. Her body immediately regretted the loss, but he had been stroking deeply. Much more of that and she'd need to use the head, and for that she'd have to get dressed and go down the hall. He lay back, legs spread; she frowned a little.

"Keep your legs somewhat close, my Nyota; do not straddle me. This position will be almost the opposite of what we just did. If you will lay your thighs along mine … yes … and I …" he held her posterior and gently inserted himself into her vagina, and she could feel his length stroking her clitoris as his glans moved in and out. "Oh …" she cried softly, and lowered her face to kiss his lips. He eagerly responded, then pulled away.

He craned his head forward to tongue and kiss her breasts, and this time she truly understood the old Japanese phrase for sexual climax, "the clouds and the rain," because deep inside she felt a storm coming, and the tears of gratefulness streamed from her eyes as the storm broke for them both.

* * *

Nyota, re-attired in her red three-piece red wool dress uniform, sat to put on her tights and boots, and said, "Oh! It's a message for you, Spock, in an envelope."

Spock, now fully dressed himself, straightened his hair with both hands, bent, kissed her on the cheek, and picked up the envelope.

And sat immediately in the chair by Uhura.

"What is it, _ashayam_?" she asked.

"My … m …" he said, his eyes widening and glazing slightly with tears as he absorbed the shock. "Of course. She liked to send me letters sometimes, in the diplomatic pouches from Vulcan. The Embassy being in this city, it was convenient enough for someone to deliver them to me here."

"It's from your mother?"

"Yes." He paused, gathering himself, drawing a breath.

"Would you like to be alone?"

"No. Please stay." He opened the cream envelope and took out the heavy stationery from inside, unfolding it with one hand, while his other hand folded around Nyota's. His mother's beautiful, small handwriting filled several pages, front and back.

_My dearest Spock,_

_I am so proud to learn you are to be assigned as Captain Pike's First Officer and Science Officer. Apparently that is a singular honor accorded only to you -- I couldn't find reference to any other officers who held two such important positions at one time on a starship. Captain Pike shows enormous trust in your integrity and skill, and I am so thrilled I could burst. Of course, I can see you remonstrate with me now that bursting is completely unnecessary, but I hope you understand what I mean._

_From the time you were born, I have loved you so much. Perhaps someday you won't be too embarrassed to show your love, but I know you love me, and even your father, although he hasn't spoken to you for so long. I am sorry about that, my dear; I have tried reasoning with him, but the closest I have come to understanding his not speaking with you is his enigmatic statement, "They must not know of my feelings for Spock." At first, I thought he meant, Starfleet Academy must not know he disapproved of your choice. After watching the political pressure your father is under here on Vulcan, however, I think he means that the Elders and the Academy and other groups of significance must not know he's proud of what you did that day they offered you admittance._

_You told me about your lovely young Aide, Nyota Uhura. I hope you have made her happy by expressing your love without reservation. I felt that you never seemed so full of light as that day you contacted me to tell me about her, and the holos you sent me show you have a mutual admiration and joy. She has the most radiant smile and she brings out that tiny smile of yours that I always looked for, the one at the left side of your mouth._

_If she is there with you now, please give her a hug for me, and tell her I look forward with all my heart to meeting her. I hope she will soon be a member of our family, and will bring you as much happiness as Sarek and you have brought me._

_As ever, all my love_

_Your proud mother_

Spock turned in his chair and reached out to hold onto Nyota. His fingers dug into her back at first, then relaxed as he breathed deeply. She stroked the back of his head and massaged his neck.

When he pulled away, his eyes were moist, but he wore his tiny smile. "She convinced me not to give you up," he said.

"You were going to give me up?"

"Surely you remember the day you came here in high dudgeon, declaring that if you weren't assigned to the Enterprise it was because I 'didn't love you enough' and because I 'did not care enough about "us" to maintain our relationship at any cost.' I had begun to question my own rationality at being involved with such a passionate woman. My mother set my thinking to rights."

"I have so much to thank her for, Spock." She leaned in to touch her forehead to his and he closed his eyes. "For carrying you, for rearing you, and for teaching you the meaning of love."

"Indeed, Nyota," he said, and kissed her softly. "I am grateful to both of you for the last."


End file.
